


Cassandra Cain, The Batgirl

by Dan_Ingram



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2018-04-14 14:50:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 103,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4568598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dan_Ingram/pseuds/Dan_Ingram
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ongoing stories of the greatest martial artist, as she protects Gotham from countless threats while building her own life and legend!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**DC Infinity Presents**

**Batgirl #0**

**Gigantic Baby Steps**

 

            _Europe, The Balkans_

 

            Cassandra Cain almost couldn’t believe how such a simple question had put her in the life or death situation she currently found herself in, some hundreds of miles from home, without friends or allies and about to fight the world’s greatest martial artist, Lady Shiva, to the death for the second time. All because of a single question.

 

            Who is my mother?

 

            That was all Cassandra really wanted to know. Lady Shiva was the natural suspect in so many ways, and so Cassandra set about tracking her down. It didn’t matter that Shiva had aligned herself with Nyssa, Ras Al Ghul’s daughter and heir to his powerful terrorist organization. It didn’t matter that Shiva was training the next generation of the League of Assassins. Cassandra Cain had had enough with the holes in her young life. It was a question that actually cost Cassandra her life, when she stepped in front of a blade intended for another.

 

            But her mother, Shiva, wasn’t about to let Cassandra Cain end her destiny in the dirt and snow of some backwards country, killed by Cain’s first experiment to save some lesser martial artist. Lady Shiva submerged her daughter in the healing powers of the Lazarus Pits, and Cassandra was brought back screaming back to life.

 

            Easily restrained in such a state, it was only then that Cassandra Cain, the Batgirl, learned of how she had been brought into this world. Her biological father Cain had come across Shiva in his travels and saw the spark of a powerful warrior within her heart, even as a young girl. To turn that small spark into a raging inferno, Cain killed Shiva’s sister and Cassandra’s aunt, who had until then unknowingly held the fearsome fighter back.

 

            After all, Shiva knew she could never become the world’s most feared woman so long as she faced the shame of her beloved sister.

 

            In return for the ‘favor’ and to spare her life from Cain’s bullets, Shiva consented to have Cain’s child, Cassandra. Even when Cassandra wasn’t but a day old, Shiva felt as though her daughter was the one person who could stop her. Cassandra felt the slightest pangs of heartache realizing that her biological mother had willingly left her with Cain, knowing full well how Cain would raise her.

 

            All the training, all the abuse, Shiva foresaw it all simply as a means to an end. Cassandra Cain was birthed to end the monster her mother had now become. She was born to be used as a failsafe, a tool and weapon to stop one of the greatest human threats alive, Cassandra slowly realized.

 

            But Lady Shiva wasn’t one to go down easy, if her body language was any indication. Nyssa’s ruined fortress seemed to be destined to be the final battleground of the reunited daughter and mother.

 

            “I’ve given life to you three times,” Shiva warned, “there won’t be a fourth.”

 

            Cassandra tied her hair back, and began to mentally center herself. It was only a little harder than usual, what with the revelations her mind had to process. Within two seconds though, she was in tune with her beating heart, could feel the slight breeze on her neck and feel the dirt beneath her toes.

 

            “I know,” Cassandra answered, “I’m ready.”

 

            Shiva moved with such strength and passion it was hard to believe she’d just confessed to being Cassandra’s mother. To Cassandra’s unique way of perceiving the human body, Shiva moved like a snake, fluidly uncoiling from delivering a pained confession into a deadly warrior intent on achieving that one last blaze of glory.

 

            Thankfully, it was at times like this Cassandra’s training took over completely, banishing all thoughts, emotions and regrets. Only a warrior remained.

 

            Shiva opened with a devastating roundhouse kick aimed at the left of Batgirl’s head. The young heroine instantly brought both her wrists up to block the attack, just like Shiva expected. With skill only four other people possessed in the world, Shiva shifter her weight in midair, lashing out with her other foot and catching Cassandra dead center of her chest.

 

            The blow drove almost all the air from Cass’ lungs, but did nothing to impair her skill. The young woman somersaulted backwards and landed in a crouch. Shiva was on her in an instant with a neck-aimed chop at a vital nerve cluster with her right hand. Cass leaned back just enough so the palm brushed against her eye brows, and caught Shiva’s wrist in her left hand. Shiva instinctively attacked with her free hand, but her daughter caught her by the wrist once again.

 

            With Shiva’s arms crossed over another in her hands, Cassandra launched her counter attack, head-butting her mother so hard she drew blood with the first time. Cassandra shifted focus again and tried to kick her foe’s knee-cap, but experience won out this time. Shiva brought her foot up before the kick and brought it down perfectly and painfully atop Cass’ own foot.

 

            A shiver went down Batgirl’s spine while her mother only smiled. Cassandra had control over Shiva’s arms at the tactical loss of her own. Shiva had Cass’ feet under control at the loss of her own. A head butt wouldn’t work again because Shiva would see it coming.

 

            Stalemate.

 

            “You have my eyes,” Shiva observed, “yet at the same time… don’t. I never noticed that. Perhaps today that will change.”

 

            Repulsion overwhelmed Cassandra as she broke the stalemate and backpedaled to a safe distance.

 

            “Oh, did mommy scare you?” Shiva purred, “poor baby, you can be so strong, but one little push of your buttons…”

 

            Shiva attacked again, this time leaping into the air and coming down again like a lioness. Cassandra barely avoided the first punch, and wasn’t fast enough to around Shiva’s foot when it crashed against her side. Cass struck back with her elbow, hitting her mother squarely in the jaw and then, straightening her arm, struck her again with a powerful back hand that made Shiva’s head snap back.

 

            The mighty Shiva stumbled, and Batgirl launched herself into the air, both feet coiled back like deadly weapons.

 

            That was a mistake.

 

            Shiva caught her daughter’s left foot, and twisted it painfully as she moved backwards. Batgirl fell flat on her back and instead of swinging her other leg in an attempt to free herself, pulled both her legs close to her chest and kicked outwards. Shiva, her was still holding onto the leg lurched forward and met the blow with full force.

 

            Four ribs cracked cleanly, and Shiva smiled, her usually pearly white teeth a disturbing color of red with all the blood that flowed from her mouth.

 

            “I was beginning to worry that I’d made a mistake,” Shiva confessed. Her body burned with pain, but the world’s deadliest woman had endured far worse.

 

            Cassandra climbed to her feet, favoring her uninjured leg. In her mind’s eye, the fight was already over. Shiva would have to defend her damaged ribs as more damage might be lethal and it limited her counter attack options.

 

            “You were born perfectly,” Lady Shiva smiled weakly, “and to think I ever doubted you…”

 

            This time it was Cassandra who attacked with a fury, and Shiva who was in the defensive. Shiva did her best to defend herself, but she couldn’t match her younger daughter’s rage.

 

            Cassandra found herself fighting perfectly as a stream of tears trailed down her face. As much as she hated and loved Cain for what he did to her, Cassandra couldn’t find it within herself to be nearly as forgiving towards her mother. Maybe it was because Cain loved her as a person whereas Shiva plainly saw her as a means to an end. Maybe it was because everything that was ever wrong in her life, Cassandra could lay at Shiva’s feet. Or maybe it was just because Cassandra’s one last glimmer of hope that she wasn’t damned was snuffed out like a candle in a blizzard, like sand through her clenched fist. Daughter of two killers, raised by a killer as a killer. Nature and nurture were now aligned against her as absolute fact and Cassandra hated it, herself and anyone involved in making it so.

 

            For the first time in so very long, Cassandra wanted to do more than just hurt. In her rage she didn’t know what he wanted, just that merely hurting Shiva wasn’t nearly enough. Cassandra grabbed her mother’s hair and brought her face down crashing to her knee.

 

            Shiva was nearly spent, at the end of her endurance and Cassandra drew her hand back to…

 

            To do what? Cassandra found herself horrified when she realized just what she had been about to do, and stood stock still in shock.

 

            And Shiva, marvel of human perfection (despite the beating she’d just endured) that she was, managed to take full advantage. Cass barely saw the fist and foot that collided with her head perfectly. Cass retaliated with a kick to Shiva’s stomach, but it was the younger warrior who ended up retreating.

 

            “Come now dear, make my final battle one to remember!”

 

            Cassandra could barely choke back the bile in her throat. She’d just come closer to killing than she ever thought possible. And still Shiva wanted more.

 

            Suddenly, unbidden, Cassandra remembered how her mother described how her father Cain had ‘helped’ her.

 

_I was grateful. The chance to become someone new. No, not some **one**. I wanted to become some **thing**. _

           

            Then and there, Cassandra’s life flashed in front of her eyes in an epiphany. Her course became as clear as day.

 

            First, she picked up a small rock with the toes in her right foot and flung it forward like a dart. It caught Shiva in her left eye, blinding her in that eye and making her as vulnerable as a newborn baby.

 

            Cassandra had no trouble at all moving faster and quicker than she ever had before. Darting forward, Cassandra swung her right arm across Shiva’s chest with all her strength and put her right leg behind Shiva’s. Lady Shiva fell backwards, and with almost superhuman speed, Cassandra shifted her body and knelt down so that her left knee was there waiting when Shiva’s back came barreling back towards the earth.

 

            Crak!

 

            Shiva gaped opened mouth as she lay across her daughter’s knee. The internationally feared warrior looked into her daughter’s eyes, pleading for an answer.

 

            Cassandra offered none at first. Gingerly lifting her mother off her knee, Batgirl set her down gently on the rubble of the base.

 

            “How…how could you do this to me?” Shiva demanded through her tears, “this is…this is worse than death!”

 

            “Exactly,” Cassandra said smugly, “you gave birth to me…for a reason, to stop you. Cain raised me to be an assassin. You both used me, like a weapon, like a thing,” Cassandra spat venomously, “I kill you, I become a thing. I would rather be…a person.”

 

            “You are a failure!” Shiva roared furiously, “I should have left you dead! You are no daughter of mine!”

 

            “I know,” Cassandra smirked, “you’ll just have…learn to live with yourself,” Batgirl turned on her heel and began to leave, “good luck. Bitch.”

 

            Batgirl didn’t get two feet before Shiva burst out into hysterical, nearly side-splitting laughter.

 

            “You think…you think you could ever be a real person?” Shiva mocked honestly, “don’t delude yourself. You’re so pathetic, trying to make me like your adopted mother,” Shiva laughed bitterly, in both earnest amusement and heart felt pity, “dressing up in your father’s clothes, following his mantra like a puppet. I bet you would spread your legs for him in an instant, just like some…”

 

            A batarang embedded itself into the dirt not two inches from Shiva’s head. For a woman who’d regularly faced skilled martial artists in death matches, the implied threat was as intimidating as being held at gun point with a super soaker.

           

            “You are a weapon Cassandra Cain. You were born to be a weapon, raised as a weapon, used like a weapon and you’ll die a weapon.”

 

            There was something in Shiva’s voice, an edge or slight quiver, something Cassandra never heard before, (regret? sorrow?), that made the young woman turn around to face her mother.

 

            “Weapons do not think, they do not plan beyond their immediate goal. I am a person Cassandra. And I suspected that you’d be a disappointment. So before I brought you back, I visited this base’s munitions storage facility, and set a timer.”

 

            The explosion was surprisingly muffled, so much so Cass barely heard it at first. But she felt the air rush past her face and turned just in time to see a wall of flame barreling towards her. Cassandra Cain attempted to dive out of the way, but before she ever touched earth again darkness overtook her.

 

            &&&

 

            Barbara Gordon rubbed her weary eyes. The universal crisis that had been threatening reality itself had been over for four days now (or five. Even the computer Goddess Oracle had her limits, and she had passed them twenty four hours ago) but there was enough cleanup that needed immediate attention to last several weeks at least, and Oracle was needed to coordinate it all.

 

            At first, Oracle almost didn’t notice the little blinking icon that popped up on her computer. It was a rarely used program, one to monitor members of the ‘Batclan’ whenever they operated outside of Gotham. Nightwing once joked it was her ‘mother hen’ program. Barbara clicked the icon, trying to remember who she set the program up for.

 

            She felt a knot form in her stomach when Cassandra’s file flashed across the screens. The last time Barbara had seen her successor was when the Birds of Prey dropped her off in the Balkans in search of her biological mother, to confront Shiva, the world’s greatest martial artist, in the base of Nyssa Al Ghul, a woman of immense power and resources. If it was anyone else, Oracle would have thought it suicide. But Cassandra never failed to handle herself like a professional, and so Oracle didn’t worry.

 

            Too much.

 

            But that was almost a week ago, now and just before the entire world had gone to hell and back.

 

            Still, one didn’t get to be the backbone of the hero community by panicking easily, even if a loved one was in danger. With a few commands, Barbara activated Cassandra’s radio frequency.

 

            “Oracle calling Batgirl, Oracle calling Batgirl, please respond, over.”

 

            Nothing.

 

            “Oracle calling Batgirl, are you there? What’s your status? Over.”

 

            And once again, a foreboding silence reigned.

 

            By now, Oracle was growing more and more concerned. Leaving the frequency open, Oracle began typing in a series of complex commands into her laptop that were transmitted to secret spy satellites in orbit, hijacked from Lex Luthor himself.

 

            Within minutes Oracle was rewarded an overhead view of Nyssa’s devastated headquarters. At any other time, that wouldn’t be so worrying, but Cassandra was MIA. Barbara wasn’t afraid to admit she cared deeply about the young woman. A few more clicks of her keyboard, and the satellite images went infrared. There were small fires burning all through out the entire complex, but what drew Oracle’s attention was a single unmoving human heat signature.

 

            Fear ran rampant in Barbara’s mind, and things certainly didn’t get better when she observed on another screen a group of at least a dozen armed men, perhaps only four miles and closing.

 

            There was no doubt in Oracle’s mind what those men were there to do. They were professional ‘cleaners’. Mercenaries hired by Nyssa to ensure that nothing remained that might compromise her organization further. It would take them some time to hike over the rough terrain to reach the isolated location, but they’d be at the base soon enough, and if they found Cassandra wounded…

 

            Oracle’s mind raced. Who could get to her fast enough? Superman, Wonder Woman, all the big name metas were engaged in important cleanup. Dams, nuclear power plants and levies the world over had taken a pounding, among a million other important things. There was no one fast enough she could in good conscience pull away from those assignments. Hell, even her Birds of Prey were scattered across the United States, looking for escaped meta-convicts, murderers and rapists from The Society’s big break out.

 

            In the end, the only option was obvious. Oracle keyed in the man’s code.

 

            “Bruce, its Barbara…I think Cassandra’s in trouble.”

 

            &&&

 

            The Batplane, two generations more advanced than any military aircraft (this one especially, with technology taken from a few ‘mad scientist’ enemies of the JLA), sliced through the air at record shattering speeds. It had been almost forty minutes since Oracle had appraised him of Batgirl’s possible situation.

 

            In life or death situations, that might have well be a dozen lifetimes. The Dark Knight felt fear gnawing in his gut, but countered it with cold, hard reason. Cassandra Cain was perhaps the most capable of his charges, easily equaling Nightwing in terms of sheer skill.

 

            But Batman wasn’t about to take chances when it came to those he cared about. Even if Cassandra wasn’t at Nyssa’s base, she still needed to be found. There had been too much death, so much loss…if he had to move Heaven and Earth to find his charge, Bruce Wayne was more than willing to do just that. And no one on earth understood better than The Batman that a journey of a thousand miles started with a single step.

 

            The Batplane slowed and eventually came to a complete and silent stop atop Nyssa Al Ghul’s base. Batman took in the destruction clinically like the master detective he was. His sources had indicated Nyssa had an alliance with Mr. Freeze and was rebuilding the League of Assassins. Judging from the odd combination scorch marks, raging fires and jagged pillars of ice that still hadn’t yet melted, the alliance and revamping didn’t go exactly as planned. His scanners also indicated that the mercenaries Oracle had warned about had just made it to the base.

 

            For a moment, Batman hesitating despite what he knew he had to do next. If Cassandra was here, and wasn’t moving…

 

            Unbidden, Batman’s thoughts drifted back to another time when a younger charge traveled half across the world to find the truth about their mother, and how that ended. But even now, the circumstances around it having changed, the failure still weighed heavily upon Batman’s shoulders.

 

            No, Cassandra was…is different! Batman chided himself. Skilled, professional, Cassandra Cain handled anything asked of her with no complaint and asking nothing in return. Was that what made this seem almost easy, Batman wondered, that Batgirl never asked him to give of himself emotionally like Robin and Nightwing did? With a tinge of guilt, Batman began to wonder how fairly he treated Cassandra compared to his other charges.

 

            Still, time enough for recriminations later, Batman thought. Tapping a single button on his utility belt, a silent signal activating an emergency beacon installed in all the belts of his partners. Batman was loathe to use it too often as, for it to be effective, the beacon had to broadcast on most local frequencies.

 

            The computers picked up the emergency beacon almost the second Batman activated it. Batman’s eyes widen in shock, but by the time his heart had processed the information, his mind had already created a plan of action.

 

            &&&

 

            Clayton Heinrich, long time member of German Special forces until two years ago, began his sweep of the dorms that housed Nyssa’s special guard, known as the Ubus. They weren’t the most elite of their employer’s forces, but they were the most loyal by far. They were taken at birth by the Demon’s Head people, and raised in secret locations all over the world to revere Ras Al Ghul, no matter who claimed that position (thankfully for the man’s daughter, Nyssa who usurped the position from her father). However, such brainwashing, perfected over hundreds of years, didn’t leave the servants with much in the way of imagination, limiting their usefulness, something the mercenary was thankful for. It gave him employment, after all.

 

            Scanning the barracks, he didn’t expect to really find anything of significance. Just some odd personal effects perhaps or perhaps the odd weapon laying around that hadn’t had its serial number properly removed. After all, cleaners were hired for their attention to detail, and there were a surprisingly many things that could lead back to the main organization and Clayton was expected to find and destroy them all.

 

            What he never expected was for someone to find **_him_**.  

 

            He’d just passed the lavatory when a force (the collision was so staggering in Clayton’s mind it couldn’t possibly be a man) slammed into him. By the time his mind registered the first blow, another two had landed. The shadow assaulted him with expect skill, depriving him of his weapons like a child picking daises while at the same time driving him backwards with ridiculous ease. The German soldier of fortune staggered backwards and when he hit the far wall of the bathroom, a hand reached out and grabbed him by the hair, and slammed his face into the toilet bowl.

 

            Clayton struggled considerably, but his unseen foe had leverage and greater strength. What made the situation all the more terrifying was that there were no questions, no demands, no words whatsoever. Clayton’s unseen foe clearly possessed the ability to kill him. The fact that he hadn’t done so implied that he had much worse planned than a quick and easy death.

 

            The air within Clayton’s lungs was exhausted after thirty seconds. Just as the professional soldier began to black out, his assailant pulled his head out of the toilet abruptly, painfully wrenching the man back to reality before plunging it down again.

 

            Clayton’s courage didn’t survive another ten seconds.

 

            “What do you want! Don’t kill me, please!”

 

            The water distorted his voice, but nevertheless the message was conveyed. The pressure on his head ceased, and Clayton felt himself being pulled up to eye level with a man who man believed could sow fear into the heart of the devil himself.

 

            The Batman.

 

            Clayton Heinrich vividly remembered long nights drinking with his fellow commandos, laughing it up and mocking those they deemed inferior. Batman, more of a myth than an actual man to those who worked in the intelligence field, was a subject of frequent discussion. After all, he was reputed to be the best even though so little was known about him. The common theory among drunken soldiers up well past midnight was that Batman was some pathetic figure that other heroes took pity on, and therefore helped created a myth to protect some half wit crime fighter too pathetic to fight his own battles. After all, no one believed the man was half as dangerous as his reputation.

 

            Now, face to face with the man, Clayton believed The Batman was greatly under estimated.

 

            With a look of hatred, anger and yet somehow total control etched across his face, the Batman growled, “How many men and how well armed?”

 

            Clayton no longer had any illusions about his courage. All he could think about was the tortures The Batman seemed more than willing to inflict upon him if he wasn’t completely forthcoming.

 

            Not two seconds after Clayton revealed everything he knew about his comrades along with everything he slightly suspected the Dark Knight swiftly knocked him unconscious. Removing the man’s communication equipment, Batman went to work.

 

            &&&

 

            Derrick Bartel motioned silently for his fellow commandos, Tim Creger and Dan Castano (both former Navy Seals) to follow him into the expansive room. According to their contract, this room, holding Nyssa’s Lazarus Pits, was far and away the most important. It had to be destroyed and anyone who might have had contact with it killed.

 

            Derrick understood the logic perfectly. Anyone who gained access to the Pits would have the ability to rival Nyssa’s organization for power, become an instant billionaire or any number of things. Derrick didn’t have to be a scientist to know that something so powerful could be easily perverted.

 

            Still, he was given special chemicals to neutralize the pit, and killing any hapless villager or curious Shepard who might take it upon themselves investigate the scene didn’t bother the man one bit. His men flanked outwards and began scanning the rubble with their eyes. It was actually a little harder and more disturbing than Derrick had thought it.

 

            There were corpses everywhere, some fresh and others….not . Their employer explained there had been an accident concerning the pit (and confirming to Derrick how such a thing could be perverted), but an accident didn’t explain why bodies that appeared to be dead for nearly a decade were doing strewn about.

 

            That wasn’t the only thing that drew the mercenary’s attention was that someone had clearly and carefully removed from around the pit. Thankfully for Derrick, the Lazarus Pit itself appeared to be mostly destroyed, buried under tons of rubble of what had once been the compound’s roof. Pulling a specially made grenade from his belt, he pulled the pin and lobbed it over the pit. It exploded in a blue mist and seeped down towards the pit. According to Nyssa’s scientists, it would destroy the pit chemicals completely.

 

            “Alright, main objective is accomplished. Tim, flank left. Dan, flank right and sweep the room. I’ll examine the pit and see if I can tell if I can determine anyone used it.”

 

            &&&

 

            Tim Creger found himself at home amongst the legion of dead and decayed bodies, having killed enough men for two lifetimes. He held his laser sighted uzi with the ease of a warrior born as his eyes took in every detail of his surroundings, muscles taunt for an unexpected surprises and his ears keenly following every sound. So he almost wanted to laugh when he jumped like a little school girl because of a mosquito bite.

 

            Running his hand across the tender area, Tim suddenly remembered that there were no mosquitoes in this climate, but by then his mind had already drifted away from his body into a peaceful and content sleep.

 

            &&&

 

            Derrick never expected to find anything in his sweep, but naturally he did. A young woman, partially covered in rubble who apparently had been caught in the blast that had gutted the building. She’d been caught in the blast obviously, but survived by sheer luck.

 

            Derrick thumbed the trigger on his gun. His orders were to kill anyone lurking at the base, but the young woman didn’t appear to be the least bit threatening. There existed the outside chance that she was important to someone in Nyssa’s organization, and so he held off on executing her, at least until he could discern her identity. It never hurt to curry favor with employers and if she wasn’t anyone important, well, a double tap to the back of the head later rather than sooner was no problem at all.

 

            “Dan, Tim, get over here!” the mercenary ordered. He set his gun aside and began moving the rubble, “we got a live one! Think it might be one of Nyssa’s people!”

 

            Derrick only heard Dan heading towards his position, which didn’t immediately register in his mind. However, when he moved a large piece of plaster off the young woman, alarms in his head started blazing. The well known Bat emblem on Cassandra’s costume had a few nicks and tears, but it was still recognizable to anyone with half a brain.

 

            It was then Derrick heard his partner’s muffled scream. He turned to see his partner being assaulted by what looked like a shadow of a man.

 

            Withdrawing his sidearm, Derrick pointed it towards Cassandra’s head and shouted, “Don’t move…!”

 

            Batman acted on instinct forged from years of battle. He’d made a minor miscalculation, never expecting the mercenaries to find Cassandra before him, but that couldn’t be helped. The situation simply couldn’t descend into a hostage negotiation because he had no idea the extent of Cassandra’s injuries, nor did he trust professional killers to keep their word.

 

            Removing his trademark weapon from his belt, the Dark Knight threw it with uncommon passion. It collided perfectly between Derrick’s eyes but not before he squeezed off a single shot.

 

            “No…” Batman moved numbly towards his young charge, his heart in his throat and his mind flashing back towards a warehouse that had just been destroyed by a bomb of the Joker. Cassandra’s young face was slick with blood, “not again…not again!”

 

            Kneeling down, he felt for a pulse. Seconds warped into an eternity.

 

            “She’s alive…” Batman exclaimed to no one in particular, tears of joy and relief sliding down his face. Rational thought began to take back over and he saw how the bullet had just grazed Cassandra’s head, “…she’s alive!”

 

            Batman began quickly and methodically removing the rubble off Batgirl all the while mentally noting possible injuries. The combined list equaled nothing good.

 

            “Oracle, find Dr. Midnight and Mr. Terrific and get them to the Watch Tower, now!”

 

            “Batman, what happened? Did you find her?”

 

            “Just do as I say!” Batman scooped Cassandra up into his arms as gently as humanly possible and rushed to the Batplane. Thankfully, there was a JLA teleporter no less than ten minutes away  

 

            &&&

 

            JLA Watchtower, 16 hours later.

 

            It seemed almost unfair, Barbara Gordon thought to herself. Another Batgirl taken down not in combat, but by deception, something she couldn’t fight against. Batman and Oracle watched over Cassandra’s comatose form for a full minute before Dr. Mid-Nite began.

 

            “I’ll spare you the details, but the trauma was extensive. Unfortunately she was laying there for too long with massive head trauma. The build up of fluids in the brain…”

 

            “Will she wake up?” Batman interrupted sharply.

 

            “…I can’t say,” Mid-Nite confessed, “trauma like this is impossible. She could wake up next week. Or next month. Or never.”

 

            Oracle choked down a sob.

 

            “I think it would be best to move her to an actual hospital within the next twenty four hours. She should stabilize by then.”

 

            “Thank you, doctor.”

 

            Dr. Mid-Nite left the two heroes alone. They waited there, observing the young woman who meant so much to them in utter silence.

 

            “This was my fault,” Batman said finally, breaking the silence, “she was always so skilled, so capable…I allowed myself to believe she was invincible.”

 

            “No…” Oracle snapped quickly as tears slowly ran down her face, “we’re heroes. She’s a hero and they…we…suffer trials no matter how skilled me are. You with Bane, Dick with Blockbuster, me with Joker…this is hers. She’ll wake up, mark my words.”

 

            “How can you be so certain?”

 

            “Because legends don’t die like this.”  

 

            &&&

 

            _Several months later_

_Gotham City, Mother of Mercy Hospital_

 

            When Maggie Wiggins was eight years old, she knew she wanted to be a doctor. The fact that she was a child prodigy was a great assistance in that regard. Some twenty years later, she was considered among the top twenty doctors in the world. Maggie never bragged, but she knew she could count the number of patients she’d lost on one hand in a city filled with maniacs. And that’s why she asked to be assigned to this particular wing.

 

            It was jokingly referred to as ‘collateral lane’. The villains and madmen of Gotham, often too dangerous to be treated in a regular hospital, had their own hospital facilities in Black Gate and Arkham Asylum. But their victims…they had their own state of the art facility thanks to the charity of Bruce Wayne, though he wisely didn’t advertise that fact. Maggie shivered when she wonder how the rogues of Gotham might react if they learned not only were there entire institutions devoted to undoing their handiwork, but that it was funded largely by one man.

 

            Patients came and went in this wing, but sometimes there were those who had to be kept long term. There was the one time a young man ate a ‘Joker Fish’ on a dare and had an extremely allergic reaction, and there one time when a young woman with allergies fell into a coma when she was caught between a battle with Robin and Poison Ivy. And of course, there was her current patient.

 

            A young Asian woman, fifteen years of age at the earliest brought in by government agents and visited every so often by a woman in a wheel chair and her husband. Her injuries were extensive, but they were properly treated and fully healed by now. All that remained now was for the young girl to wake up. According to the tests Maggie ran, that could either happen any day now, or never. Apparently she’d been exposed to some unidentified chemicals, and though all traces had since disappeared, it was impossible to say what affect it might have long term. The human body could be fickle that way, the doctor sighed as she made several notes on the young woman’s chart.

 

            Had the doctor waited another hour and a half, Ms. Wiggins might have seen just how incredible the human body was too.

 

            Cassandra Cain shot up like a bullet, as if awaking from some terrible nightmare. Her last memories were of pain and fire, and the battle hardened teen expected to find exactly that when she awoke. It took several seconds for her mind to process that, much to her relief, that wasn’t the case.

 

            Once the shock had passed, Cassandra took a moment to calmly access her situation. A single glance outside the window told her that she was in Gotham. Even though she couldn’t read the name of any street nor building, visually, Cassandra Cain had long since memorized every street in Gotham.

 

            So she was in Gotham, Cass realized. At least that was familiar territory. Clearly some time had passed since her battle with Shiva and someone, most likely Batman, had rescued her and placed her in the hospital to recover. Why he or someone wasn’t here when she awoke puzzled Cassandra slightly. The Batman would know, right?

 

            Reflecting on the circumstances too much made her head hurt, literally. In a situation like this, Cassandra went into automatic. Remaining at the hospital was simply unacceptable. For all she knew The Joker might walk in and try to put a bullet through her head.

 

            Cass experimented with her legs first, but they felt like solid steel, and not in a good way. The months in a coma had not been kind to her, even though she had physical therapists treating her all the while. Her legs basically ignored her first commands of movement. It took a solid five minutes of effort just to get a physical response, and it took her half an hour just move her right foot in a circle.

 

            That might have been discouraging for anyone else, but Cassandra had been conditioned from birth. When it came to her body, where there was a will, there was a way. And there was always a will.

 

            Nearly an hour and a half after she awoke, Cassandra was ready to leave. She silently turned off all the monitors, removed all the wires, needles and God only knows what from her body. Swinging her legs off the bed, Cassandra stood on unsteady legs and crept towards the door.

 

            She started off with a limp, after several months of no use whatsoever her legs were unaccustomed to supporting her weight. But by the time Cassandra reached the door some twelve feet away, she walked almost normally.

 

            Cracking the door slightly, Cassandra saw little more than a darkened hallway. Pushing the door open just enough so that she could slide past, Cassandra closed the door and simply listened.

 

            She didn’t wait long. Down the hall she heard three male voices and a TV set. Cassandra moved towards them like a wild animal on a hunt, silent, alert and deadly.

 

            The guard station (from what Cassandra summarized) was thankfully situated with their backs to the young woman.

 

            Three men watching TV, two leaning over the counter while a third sat in a chair watching ESPN (Cass recognized it because sometimes she and Nightwing would watch the cable station together). Even though their discipline was relaxed and they didn’t seem to be the most professional to the average eye, their body language gave them away.

 

            They were government agents, well trained and armed. The shoulder holsters looked new and un-weathered, which implied that the men were rookies, at least to this job. But their mere presence worried Cassandra instantly. She’d tangled with some ‘Black-Ops’ agents early in her career and for all she knew, they were the ones who found her, not Batman.

 

            Observing them for several minutes, Cassandra determined that these three were the only other security staff in this wing. That made things simple enough.

 

            Hopefully.

 

            Unsure of how her body might react if she attacked them outright, Cass opted for subterfuge.

 

            “…hello?”

 

            The trio of men looked to see Cassandra standing there in her hospital gown. But Cassandra didn’t see any confusion in their body language, and found that more than a little worrying.

 

            “Holy crap…she’s awake,” one of the men muttered.

 

            The two men moved towards her with concern. There was no doubt in Cassandra’s mind that they knew who she was. That naturally set off alarms in her head seeing as how she had no idea who they were.

 

            “We need to get you back to bed, ma’am,” one of the men said. Neither man’s body language was threatening, but Cassandra could easily tell that they were now worried about something else entirely.

 

            Obviously, the two either hadn’t been informed or didn’t really believe what they’d been told about her, Cassandra thought. Almost invisibly Cassandra plucked the first man’s gun from his holster and pistol whipped man number two. Cassandra elbowed Man number one in the face and flung the gun at Man Number Three’s temple, instantly rendering him unconscious.

 

            Cassandra walked past them silently and into the main wing of the hospital, unnoticed. That might have been difficult to others, but stealth was one of Cassandra’s first learned skills. No one noticed the young woman. The clothes missing from the nurse’s locker room wouldn’t be missed until morning. The motorcycle Cassandra hotwired would be missed long before that, the young woman suspected, but she’d had the foresight to switch the plates.

 

            &&&

 

            It took Cassandra Cain several hours to reach a side entrance to the Batcave, a seamless trap door on the left side of the Manor. Cassandra had a little trouble finding it, even though she knew where it was, or at least where it was supposed to be. According to Tim, the narrow entry way into the cave, a former well, that had been used against Azreal during one of his unstable periods. Small and narrow, easily concealed and hidden from view even in broad daylight, it was the perfect entrance to the Batcave in Cass’ mind.

 

            But eventually, she found it. Unlike Batman or Azreal, Cassandra’s slender form had little trouble navigating the narrow entryway. She was familiar with the security and bypassed the traps and other special features designed to keep curious animals out like they weren’t even there.

 

            Emerging from the wall far from the center of the Batcave, Cassandra found herself confused. Though the Batcave was never that well lit, it was still far brighter than it was now. The luminescent rocks provided the only light within the damp and dreary cave, but between that and Cassandra’s photographic memory, it was more than enough.

 

            Making her way up a flight of steel stairs towards the center of the cave, Cassandra found her dread building with each step. She could not hear the drone of the Bat-computer, the slight vibrations of the generators or the usual hum of the lights. All she heard now was the occasional squeal of the bats that inhabited the cave.

 

            Her eyes adjusted to the lack of light easily enough, but her mind had trouble accepting the dead silence of the cave itself. There was nothing whatsoever with the cave that indicated something terrible might have happened, but Cassandra could think of no other reason why the Batcave would be shut down. Her imagination started to run wild, a million macabre scenarios running through the young woman’s mind about what might have happened to her mentor to explain why he’d abandoned his base of operations.

 

            Once Cassandra reached the operational center of the cave, her fears were confirmed as fact. The Batcomputer was off line. The vehicle bay was sealed shut and the weapons vault was locked tight, and the entire cave was covered with a blanket of dust that clearly hadn’t been disturbed in months.

 

            Cassandra looked around the cave, blinking back tears. It was obvious all means of communication had been deactivated, and without those she simply had no idea what to do. She couldn’t contact Batman, Oracle, Robin or Nightwing because the radio equipment was deactivated and without that, she lacked the ability to contact anyone.

 

            The world never seemed larger to Cassandra than when she realized how isolated she really was. Tears steaming down her cheek and exhausted beyond all measure, Cassandra fell to her knees and fell into a fitful unconsciousness, her willpower spent by the possibility that The Batman was no more.

 

            &&&

 

            When Cassandra awoke again much like the first time, in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. However, unlike last time, she at least knew the house she was in and didn’t have tubes and wires connected to various (and embarrassing) places. The bed was a thousand times better than the hospital bed, the sheets were made of pure silk and the room temperature was perfect.

 

            And Cassandra breathed a deep sigh of relief when she saw who was waiting at her bedside.

 

            “Easy there, Cass,” Oracle said soothingly as she offered Cassandra a glass of water, “take it slow. You’ve been in a coma the last several months. I’m amazed you made it this far, kiddo.”

 

            Cassandra took a deep sip before asking, “Batman. Where is he?”

 

            Cassandra’s ability to read body language had a way of telling her a lot and nothing at all at the same time, and this was one of those instances. Oracle was terribly conflicted about Batman’s current situation, no doubt disagreeing with his decision as she often did, but at the same time accepting of it all the same.  

 

            “A lot has happened in the last year, Cass…”

 

            Oracle explained as thoroughly as she could, without going into detail. Cassandra Cain sat there silently, absorbing and processing the information. As ever, Oracle was very informative, leaving Cass with little to no questions about the state of affairs of the Bat-clan. But that didn’t mean Cassandra didn’t have a few questions of her own, though not nearly as important as the whereabouts of Batman.

 

            “How did you know…where I was?”

 

            Oracle gave a look that easily translated into ‘are you serious?’, and Cassandra quickly realized there was almost nowhere else she might have gone, “I placed sensors in your bed that told me you were awake. Dick was the one who found you and brought you up here.”

 

            “Oh.”

 

            Oracle didn’t look forward to the answer of her next question, though she felt compelled to answer it all the same, “We can do a full debriefing later, but…did you find what you were looking for at Nyssa’s base?”

 

            “Yes.”

 

            “And…?” Oracle needled.

 

            “I need shower,” Cassandra answered as if that explained everything. Throwing the covers off, Cassandra brushed past her friend and began stripping off her stolen clothes as she stumbled towards. Oracle observed her with the critical eye of a woman well versed in physical conditioning.

 

            Whereas most people would be lucky to be able to move after nearly a year in a coma, Cass’ conditioning appeared to have saved her from the worst of the affects, all things considered. Right now Oracle could see that Cassandra was moving with the coordination and grace of an overweight desk jockey, but she didn’t doubt that Batgirl would be in fighting shape in less time than it took to tell.

 

            And that thought was like a stab in the heart to Barbra Gordon.

 

            &&&

 

            Cassandra wrapped the towel around her body tightly and started the water. However they washed her while in a coma (something she didn’t find too pleasant to dwell on), they didn’t do the job half as well as they should have. Cass felt slimy almost, like there was some film all over her skin.

 

            Passing the bathroom mirror, Cassandra passed her own reflection and for a single second, acting on pure instinct, stiffened, thinking she’d spotted an enemy. Examining her own image closer, Cassandra saw that they’d neglected to cut her hair while she slept. The long, fine back hair was now touched her shoulders, just like…

 

            “No…” growled the young woman, louder than she knew.

 

            Throwing the medicine cabinet open, Cassandra pushed aside Tylenol bottles, decongestants and tooth paste looking for anything sharp.

 

            “Not her!” No scissors were found. Cass slammed the cabinet shut. Glaring as her own reflection, Cassandra found herself overcome with rage and disgust, “I’m not you!”

 

            Cassandra drew her fist back to shatter the mocking image she saw in the mirror when a towel plastered her in the face.

 

            “I guess this means Shiva is your mom,” Oracle summarized, her hands resting on her lap.

 

            “…I look disgusting,” Cassandra said with no small amount of self loathing.

 

            “That’s no reason to smash Bruce’s bathroom. I know he wouldn’t approve,” Oracle snapped, “Take a shower. I’ll get you some clothes, and we’ll cut your hair, okay?”

 

            “Then training,” Cassandra Cain stared it her clenched fist, seeing none of the strength that had once been there. But she could still feel the will, and where there was a will…

 

            “Yeah,” Oracle sighed, her voice heavy with disappointment, “training…”

 

            &&&

 

            Several weeks later

 

            Oracle stared at her monitor, grinding her teeth in a fashion that would make even the Dark Knight wince. Plastered across the monitor was Cassandra Cain, going through her morning exercises, pushing her body as close to the edge as she could get. It had been years since Barbara had been able to physically exert herself like the average crimefighter, but she’d have no right to call herself Oracle if she wasn’t extremely well read, especially about the endurance of the human body. Cassandra was pushing herself more and more each day, all towards one singular goal with a passion that was unsettlingly familiar.

 

            “Ya know, not even pedophiles don’t stare that hard at their screen,” a voice remarked.

 

            “There was a reason why I made sure to purchase a particularly uncomfortable couch, Dick,” Oracle warned, still staring at her screen with an almost tangible anxiety.

 

            Dick Grayson, the hero known as Nightwing and Oracle’s husband, placed his hands on her shoulders comfortingly, and glanced at the monitor. Cassandra Cain looked as if she were battling for her life, not simply training against some practice dummies.

 

            “Man, is she getting ready to fight Bane?”

 

            “No, she’s just throwing her life away in another fashion,” Oracle sighed.

 

            “Look, this has been eating you for a while,” Dick observed, “why not talk to her about it?”

 

            “Because she won’t listen. How long have I been trying now to get her to try anything resembling a normal life?”

 

            “Things are different now. I can’t imagine she took to being in a coma well emotionally. She may be as stubborn as Bruce Babs, but I’ve gotten through to him before. I didn’t do that by giving up.”

 

            &&&

 

            Three different types of bataranges. A pair of safety scissors. A pencil. A 22-magnum gun. A knife made of surgical grade steel and at least a half dozen throwing stars and more were strewn across a metal tray as Cassandra Cain grabbed them at random and threw them towards specially made practice dummies. Cassandra had just finished throwing a pencil into the shoulder of one dummy when she felt Oracle approaching. Cass took one look over her shoulder, scowled, and went back to her target practice.

 

            “You ought to let me say something before you decide to ignore me,” Oracle commented.

 

            “Already know what…you’re going to say,” Cass stated.

 

            “No, you know what I’m feeling. You don’t know what I’m going to say.”

 

            “Want me to go to school. Want me to stop being me,” Cass snapped quickly, “know that look.”

 

            “When you were dipped in the Lazarus Pit Cass, it physically de-aged you. You could pass as a fifteen year old. If you’d be willing, I could get you enrolled in a High School instead of a vocational school.”

 

            Cassandra crossed her arms and looked sideways. For someone who knew what every last tic and nuance of body language meant, she was terrible at hiding her own.

 

            “…no.”

 

            “Is this all you want from your life?” Oracle asked gently, sweeping her hands towards the empty cave. There were no personal items, no mementos, nothing to indicate the base was used for anything but training, “because it’s where you’re heading, young lady. I wonder if you’d even see another human being who wasn’t a criminal if Bruce hadn’t ordered you to live in an apartment in Gotham.”

 

            Swallowing hard, Cassandra answered, “So?”

 

            “So there’s a lot more to life than just punching people in the face and saving lives.”

 

            Cassandra thought about Brenda, and all the friends she lost when Bludhaven was destroyed by the radioactive monster Chemo.

 

            “A lot more hurt in it too.”

 

            “Maybe so, but that’s hardly the sum total of life, Cass. You’re being…”

 

            “Don’t!” Cassandra snapped angrily, but it was already too late to prevent Barbara from finishing her sentence.

 

            “…foolish!”  

  

            Oracle watched Cassandra Cain shifted from anxious and defensive to exceptionally pissed.

 

            “Not stupid! I not stupid!” Cassandra shouted, her eyes beginning to water.

 

            “Cass, I didn’t call you stupid! Calm down!”

 

            “You think I stupid!” accused Cassandra. Oracle didn’t even get a chance to open her mouth before Cassandra took one look at her body language, and stormed off.

 

            One of the troubles of dealing with someone who understood body language perfectly was that body language itself was far from a perfect language. In combat, body language was perfect. All the subtle nuances led to an obvious climax. In personal conversation, however, things were far more murky. Oracle thought Cassandra was being foolish for avoiding anything resembling a normal life. It wasn’t too surprising considering the young woman’s upbringing, but it was disappointing nevertheless. She decided to leave the matter for another day, doubtful that if she could even find Cassandra that she’d be in the mood to talk.

 

            Not too far away, Cassandra Cain, trained from birth to be the perfect human weapon, applied all her training to stop the tears from flowing down her cheek. It wasn;t a battle she was winning.

 

            _Months later_

 

_Gotham City Docks_

 

            Jack Chifford reflected on his career and recent turn of fortune as a moderate sized boat pulled into Gotham harbor barely five minutes after midnight. Born into a rough neighborhood, he taught himself to be tough and faster and tougher than those stronger than him. He thought it was only natural he join the marines. Jack had been a professional mercenary for some six years now since he left the Marines, but it wasn’t until he bought a costume from some computer geek that he was really successful. Jack had always derided the ‘spandex clowns’ but after a while it was obvious he wouldn’t find the kind of employment (and money) he wanted without a costume, preferably one with some miles.

 

            Jack chose the name ‘Hellhound’, because he’d worked alongside the original once and had always loved dogs. Growing up he made friends with every dog on the block and helped a few of his elderly neighbors (who kept the dogs largely for protection) care for and trained them. His mom called it his gift. Hell, even the dog handlers in his unit asked him for advise. Given two Venom enhanced pit bulls (made especially by him by Society scientists) and with enough combat training for a dozen men, Jack now found himself rising in the underworld faster than he ever thought possible.

 

            But never in his wildest dreams did he imagine he’d be spear heading The Society’s push into Gotham. He was leading a squad of people that, two years ago, he would have considered the biggest freaks in the world, but now thought of as soldiers in arms. The plan was to storm the collection of loose net criminal networks, convert those willing to join and brutally slaughter (as a message to others, of course) those who refused. The Society wanted control of Gotham City to put them in a better position to deal with the Dark Knight who protected it. After much discussion and debate, it was eventually decided a blitz attack would work best. The criminals of Gotham were a stubborn and insane lot, and a show of strength was needed to make them tow the line.

 

            But in order to do that, Hellhound had to get the shipment of weapons on the boat to the dozens of Royal Flush Gang members waiting across town. Without those weapons, the battles they needed to fight would be too costly and draw too much attention. Indeed, they were the lynchpin of the plan.

 

            That was why Hellhound was being especially careful. Three blocks away were Flush Gang members with the trucks needed to haul the hardware. Once his team confirmed it was safe to approach, he’d call them in. No need to keep them idling at the docks where they’d draw attention, even though he felt confident his small team of metahumans could handle. The super strong Solomon Grundy, shape shifting Chiller, Titans foe Trident and four senior members of the Royal Flush Gang keeping lookout on their flying cards, more than enough to handle the local costumed clowns or cops.

 

            Thumbing the radio, Hellhound haled the men on the ship, “This is Alpha calling beta. Report.”

 

            Static was the only response.

 

            “I repeat, this is Alpha leader calling Beta leader. Please report.”

 

            Nothing.

 

            “Grundy not like this,” commented swamp monster.

 

            “Me wish we got a smarter Grundy after that freak toasted the last one,” Chiller muttered under his breath, “What are your orders, Hellhound?”

 

            “Flush Gang! Fly up there and check things out. If you see anything, get your asses back here, don’t engage under any circumstances, got it?”

 

            “Yo, got it boss,” replied one of the beefier members (Ten? Jack? Hellhound had a hard enough time keeping their suits straight, let alone individual rank). The four card inspired gang activated their flying cards and floated up to inspect the vessel.

 

            “What do we do if the shipment is compromised?” asked Chiller. The villain feared little, but an agreed upon course of action was always nice.

 

            “We kill whoever did it,” Hellhound answered casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “but lets not jump to conclusions. For all we know, the idiots broke their radio.”

 

            “You awfully calm considering what the Society’s got riding on this gig,” Trident noted.

 

            “Herman and Lilly are pretty calm,” Hellhound motioned towards his two mutated pitbulls, “so I see no reason not to be. Lets wait and see, okay?”

 

            A full minute passed with nothing but silence.

 

            “Flush Gang, come in,” Hellhound radioed futilely. He was about try again when his dogs started growling.

 

            “Heads up!” shouted Chiller. The gathered criminals looked up to see the four oversized hover platforms of the Royal Flush Gang slicing through the air towards them. Trident, Hellhound and Chiller dove for cover while Solomon Grundy stood there stupidly, catching one of the cards in his hand like it was a Frisbee while the other three embedded themselves in the cement dock around him.

 

            Grundy examined the card as carefully as dim witted mind would allow.

 

            “Why card have blinky thing on it?” Solomon wondered aloud.

 

            The explosive on the hover card was a small thing, but coupled with the power source of the flying card, it was a terrible thing to behold. So were the other three explosives placed exactly the same way.

 

            The explosion rocked the pier from one end to the other, flaming climbing two stories in the air. Trident, Chiller and Hellhound looked up, and saw a smoldering Grundy still standing, albeit in a small, shallow crater.

 

            “Oh…” said the man monster before falling over unconscious.

 

            Trident looked up to see a barely perceivable figure leap from the shadows of the boat into the shadows of the dock seamlessly, no louder than the whisper of a mouse.

 

            “It’s the Bat!” Trident shouted with equal parts fear and awe. Gripping his weapon tightly, he scrabbled to his feet and looked towards Hellhound, “what do we do?”

 

            Hellhound brushed himself off as he stood up, “We fight moron.”

 

            “Are you crazy? Are you dense! That’s the god damned Batman!”

 

            “Get a hold of yourself and stop spewing shit!” snapped Hellhound, “we have over ten million dollars worth of weapons in the hold of that ship! The Society will skin us alive if we let that go without a fight!”

 

            “And if the police show up?” Chiller inquired, “we don’t have the muscle fight them and the Bat.”

 

            “They won’t,” assured Hellhound, “Calculator enacted an electronic blackout. We handle the Bat and we can still pull this off. Now fan out, you two. Unless you wanna tell the head honchos that you just bent over and showed pink.”

 

            Trident gathered his courage, thumbed the trigger switch that activated his weapons flame thrower for a small flame. The villain now known as Trident had, in another life, been a professional boxer before his life took a turn for the worse that eventually lead to crime and eventually, his costumed identity. But he was smarter than people gave him credit for (the idea of three different people dressing up as the same criminal was his) and he didn’t buy into the superstitions that most of the criminal element did. To him, the Batman was just a man in the end and as mortal as anyone else. Trident was reasonably confident he stood an actual chance of walking away the winner today.

 

      He couldn’t have been more wrong.

 

      A grenade thrown from the corner of Trident’s vision struck his weapon dead on and exploded in a sticky white foam, jamming the weapons nozzle. Without the small flame for light, the former boxer’s eyes needed a second to adjust, and for a few brief seconds, he was blind.

 

      For his foe, that might as well been an eternity.

 

      Trident felt a strong right hook across the face. Not the strongest he’d ever received, what with his career in boxing, but it was up there and delivered perfectly. It was followed up swift kick to the stomach that expelled the air from his lungs. Still struggling to see, Trident felt his foe grab his weapon in an attempt to disarm him. Trident naturally fought for control of his weapon and that was his final mistake.

 

            His foe rammed their head in his, breaking Trident’s nose. As the villain’s mind painfully processed that fact, his opponent rabbit punched him in the kidney three times and finished him off with boot to the face.

 

      Chiller watched his teammate fall and had to suppress a chuckle. Trident was an idiot, using his weapon as a torch. It made him an easy target, and that was why Chiller chose to trail the man. He then assumed the appearance of a local, overweight detective he’d been briefed on. All Chiller needed was ten seconds to get close enough with his acid gun. That was all, ten seconds.

 

      All it took was three seconds for a batarang to collide with his skull. Darkness consumed him, and just like Trident he never really saw his assailant. He still thought their foe was The Batman.

 

      &&&

 

      Hellhound stood out in the open, his every instinct feeling for searching for his unseen foe. At the moment, he was thankful for his two canine friends. Jack had met a million and one odd customers in his lifetime, but not a damn one that possessed the skill to sneak up on an angry dog. The second the dogs had an unfamialer scent, he let slip their leashes and smiled at the terrible poetry about to commence. Herman and Lilly darted off silently, trained not to bark so as not to alert their prey.

 

      Hellhound was grinning like the cat who ate the canary until he heard two sudden yelps of pain. He’d heard that sound maybe twice in his life, and it meant his babies were in danger. Unsheathing the two Sais he carried for circumstances like this, he was about to rush into the breach to save his dogs when a slim figure emerged from the shadows, Herman and Lilly at her side.

 

            Hellhound was fully briefed on all of Gotham’s protectors, from Batman to Nightwing to even the so called Birds of Prey. But the one standing before him was one he never expected to see…

 

            “Batgirl!”

 

            Cassandra Cain strode forward confidently, regarding Hellhound with contempt.

 

            “Attack!” Hellhound ordered. Herman and Lilly looked at Batgirl, who looked back at them, and the two turned their heads towards Hellhound and growled menacingly.

 

            “Your dogs and me, we have…an understanding.”

 

            Hellhound didn’t dare move.

 

            “Tell the Society, what happened here today,” Cassandra’s withering gaze put any Drill Sergeant’s to shame, and Hellhound found himself forced to look away.

 

            “Tell them Batgirl is back. And they have made me…a bitter enemy. Make them…understand the consequences. Or else.”

 

            Batgirl melted back into the shadows, and for a moment Hellhound thought that he’d be allowed to escape, back to the Society to deliver his message. That assumption was shattered when he took his first step, and Herman and Lilly growled at him in union. The dogs had their orders from their new master, and Hellhound quickly realized if he moved more than a foot his own dogs would be turned against him.

 

            By the time the police arrived, Hellhound was seriously considering new life options.

 

            After all, who wanted a career where the opposition leveled four villains just as an opening statement?

 

            Batgirl watched with satisfaction as her captures were hauled away by the police. Tonight was a success start without a doubt, but that was all it was, thought Cassandra as she swung towards Gotham proper.

 

            It was only the beginning…

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**DC Infinity Presents**

**Batgirl # 1**

**_Spitting into the Wind_ **

****

_The outskirts of St. Roch, New Orleans_

 

            The cabin looked just like any other, utterly unassuming in every way and illuminated by a single, aging light-bulb that flickered on and off, hovering near death for hours now. The cabin was generally rented out to tourists passing through or families who wanted to escape the hectic city life for a weekend. Accountants, teachers, doctors, rarely were the guests anything out of the ordinary, just average people who needed a weekend away. This night however, the occupants were of a far different, and far more dangerous variety.

 

            Standing at one of the windows, the blinds closed, was a large, African man who stood seven feet tall, broad shoulders and held a heavy stone hammer in one hand as effortlessly as a baby might carry a rattle. He was known and feared in a dozen countries as Bloodhammer, his birth name long forgotten, even to him, “Do you think there is still time to save face with the League?”

 

            His comrade was a lithe Hispanic man, who wore two belts covered with throwing stars across his well formed chest to form an X. According to his warrants from Interpol, he was named Silver, “The contract was time specific, you know that as well as I do. The man will have testified by now.”

 

            “Our contract said nothing about Hawkman being there,” said the final, third man spat venomously. He was a tall, Asian man with twin Katana blades, self anointed Splice. Unlike his companions, his fear was dwarfed by his anger, largely at himself. He was a man of breeding, prestige…and now he was nothing more than a disgrace to the family line, beaten back by a barbarian with wings!

 

            “Our contracts rarely address who opposes us. Just who we are to eliminate. And my fellow assassins, we must face the cold truth,” Bloodhammer stated, “we have failed.”

 

            On that, there could be no argument. The three men were high ranking members of the League of Assassins. The League was feared the world over, and had killed scores of men and women of all walks of life. Kings, queens, diplomats, even priests and nuns did not escape their blade for the right price. To be a member of the League for an assassin was akin to being on an Olympic sports team. If the League of Assassins were a legitimate company, they would be in the top twenty of the Fortune 500 companies. They were acknowledged, treated and very much feared as the best of the best.

 

            But being in the League also had it’s drawbacks as well. The League was rewarded handsomely for their services. Indeed, they had every intention of pleasing their patrons even if their agents were unable to fulfill their contractual obligations. Failure meant death for members of the League, save rare exceptions. The more courageous members would joke that it was one hell of an insurance policy, marketing tool and motivation all in one.

 

            No one was laughing now.

 

            No sooner had the men finish contemplating their fate than their bodies tightened. The senses of the highly trained killers were blaring that something was dangerously amiss, even if they couldn’t consciously pinpoint it. As men who lived and died by their instincts, they stood ready for anything.

 

            They didn’t wait long, as the front door of the cabin slammed inwards. Standing where had once been stood a bear of a man, six feet tall, broad shoulders and rippling muscles that would be the envy of any bodybuilder. With his long hair, full beard, torn jeans, ray-ban sunglasses and KISS T-shirt, most people would not have pegged the man as a deadly ninja warrior.

 

            That was often their first and last mistake.

 

            “Jim,” Bloodhammer hissed with enough venom to kill an elephant.

 

            The man who was simply called Jim began his criminal career as a simple drug dealer. Fittingly enough, he discovered what he felt was his true calling while high on marijuana, of all things. Jim was at his dealer’s house, completing an exchange when law enforcement agents burst in on him while he was fully entrenched in a drug filled haze. Jim killed a half dozen of police officers with a combination of skill and ferocity before somehow escaping. Jim realized that not only did he feel no remorse for the lives he took, but loved the thrill and lethal test of his manhood. From that moment on, he trained himself in the death arts with such skill and passion he drew the attention of the League itself. For a time, his employment was enough to sate his blood lust. But as time went on, even that was not enough. He petitioned the inner council to be the League’s ‘cleaner’. The position meant that he faced ruthless and deadly assassins who knew they were fighting for their lives and the enmity of those who hadn’t yet failed. But Jim didn’t care. It was just another hurdle, another pulse pounding challenge for the deadly thrill seeker.

 

            “That’s right, ‘Hammer. Now we can do easy or hard,” Jim offered sincerely. Even though he was a deadly thrill seeker, Jim saw little need to cause pain in his victims just for kicks. Given a chance, he always opted for the quick and clean kill. It was more polite, after all.

 

            Splice whipped out his katanas, Silver armed himself with his throwing stars while Bloodhammer began spinning his hammer as if it were a simple baton.

 

            “Guess that answers that question, don’t it?”

 

            0:03

 

            Silver moved the quickest, for all the good it did him. Five different throwing stars flew through the air towards Jim’s essential organs. However, like many throwing stars, these were ringed and hollow inside, for better accuracy. Jim was a blur, sticking his beefy fingers through the holes in the lethal, poison coated weapons like they were wedding rings, plucking each and every one from the air like they were casually tossed hula hoops.

 

            0:15

 

            That alone was enough to startle these expert warriors into inaction for only a split second, and to a man of Jim’s skill, that was equal to an eternity. He leaped at Silver, feet first and lashed out at Bloodhammer and Splice, who stood at the man’s side. The warriors were sent flying apart as Jim’s 310 pounds crashed into Silver, who with his neck between Jim’s legs could only fall backwards. Silver’s chest collapsed underneath Jim’s weight, and just to be sure Jim tightened his legs around the Hispanic man’s neck and squeezed. The snap was swift and quiet.

 

            0:26

 

            “Well, that’s about the gayest way to kill a man,” Jim commented as he sprung up.

 

            His foes said nothing, acutely aware of the shift of odds. Bloodhammer and Splice held back for a moment, sizing up their foes. They had the advantage in numbers certainly, but how many times had they been outnumbered and prevailed?

 

            0: 39

 

            Jim moved first to end the standoff, rushing Bloodhammer. The wall of a man swung his weapon with enough force to kill ten men, but Jim fluidly ducked underneath and slammed his flattened palm into Bloodhammer’s kidneys. Pain burned through the man, and as Bloodhammer’s vision spiraled Jim slipped his chosen weapon out of his foe’s hands and held it in the air, parallel to the flood where the handle was stuck with twin blades.

 

            0: 48

 

            “Ain’t nice to sneak up on people, Splice.”

 

            Jim quickly swung the hammer downwards where it collided with Splice’s right

 

            “Yeearggggh!”

 

            1:03

 

            The bone shattered like cheap glass. Splice tumbled backwards as Jim swung the hammer up, decorating the nearby wall with blood and grey matter.

 

            Splice didn’t last much longer with his crippling injury. Unable to see a man suffer (needlessly), Jim grabbed one of Splice’s swords and drove it through the man’s heart and into the floorboards. A pool of blood trickled out of the man silently.  

 

            1:15

 

            “Damn, I’m getting slow in my old age,” Jim muttered. It was something that he’d been thinking about for weeks now. Jim had been a killer for close to two decades, but lately he felt…off. His timing wasn’t as perfect as it used to be, his opponents became increasing faster and something inside just didn’t feel right. And not so deep down, Jim knew what that was. He was getting older. As an assassin and warrior, he’d officially peaked and now there was no where to go but down.

 

            To Jim, that thought downright scared him. All his adult life he’d worked for the League, getting his hands dirty. It was his life and passion, his identity! Death didn’t scare him half as much as life without the League.

 

            Reaching into his pocket, he took out his cell-phone and pressed the speed dial, calling a relatively new acquaintance.

 

            “Jim,” the voice on the other end answered, “what can I do for the League’s finest ‘cleaner’?”

 

            “‘ey Calculator,” Jim answered, “I need you to place a call to some friends and work me up some tickets to Gotham. It’s time for the last hurrah.”

 

            “Oh, going after the Bat, I see.” Noah commented, thankful that Jim couldn’t see him roll his eyes. The Batman was a legend to heroes and villains both, and one of the few things known about him was his utter unwillingness to take a life. The man battled the likes of the Joker, Two-Face, Scarecrow and countless others. Men and women so deadly, dangerous and unpredictable that they actually scared the underworld itself. No one would begrudge Batman for killing these criminals, yet he never did.

 

            “No, not Batman,” Jim answered, “close, but ain’t him I’m after.”

 

            ***

 

            “Batgirl?!”

 

            The hotel room was one of Gotham’s finer establishments, rating a full five stars according to most tour guides, not that anyone ever used Gotham as a tourist destination. The three villains that occupied the opulent room on the top floor were an exception to the rule.

 

            At the moment, they were discussing their objective, and the mercenary known as Shrike gaped at his former mentor in confusion as he tried to wrap his mind around the concept Jim’s final battle. Jim had personally inducted the young killer into the League and taught him almost everything he knew. Even when Shrike resigned from the League, he left on good terms with everyone, Jim included. When he received word that his old friend was ready for ‘that final run’, he naturally assumed he was going after Shiva, Batman or even Richard Dragon. Not some relatively unknown soldier and hanger on of a finer, legendary warrior.

 

            “Batgirl,” Jim confirmed.

 

            “Why not Shiva? Or Batman? Why Batgirl?” Shrike asked.

 

            “Batman ain’t never beaten Shiva,” Jim stated, “an’ Batgirl’s beaten Shiva. I don’t like sloppy seconds.”

 

            “And if this is to be your final battle, why are we here?” the third warrior asked. Dressed in the darkest black and armed with bow and quiver, the man known as Merlyn was considered one of the world’s finest archers, on par with the likes of Green Arrow and Arsenal.

 

            He was also one of the few failed killers to ever walk away from the League. A dozen men were sent to hunt him down, and those Merlyn couldn’t kill he evaded with practiced ease. He was only here because of Jim’s offer of amnesty. Even the cockiest man felt a tinge of fear when the League of Assassins had an open contract on his life.

 

            “Y’all are gonna be gatherin’ Intel for me,” Jim answered, “I don’t trust Calculator’s second hand, computer readout shit. And you might run a little interference for me too.”

 

            ***

 

            _Black Gate_

 

            Nights in Black Gate Prison were by their nature, cold and hard. The officials running the prison had long ago decided that their prisoners had forfeited the right to anything but the most draconian daily existence. The food bordered on inedible, the nights were always too cold and time in the courtyard never once exceeded an hour.

 

            Despite all this, David Cain never once found the prison uncomfortable. He was imprisoned on a host of charges, from first degree murder to kidnapping to fire arms violation, but only one thing kept this master hitman in jail and one thing only. A simple promise to his baby girl. David Cain loved his daughter Cassandra, the current Batgirl, more than anything else in the world, including his own freedom. As the loving father he saw himself as, Cain could deny her nothing, even when she turned her back on everything he stood for.  

 

            And somewhere in the back of his mind, Cain knew that his daughter saw his time in jail as karma (even if she didn’t know exactly what the word meant) for how he ‘mistreated’ her. He’d raised her from birth to be the perfect fighter, the ultimate human weapon. Devoid of the spoken word, Cain raised his little girl on the language of violence. Fists and blows instead of words and expressions. Within eight years, his little girl was the ultimate human weapon, capable of defeating foes three times her size, and even after all this time, Cain was hard pressed to see any ‘mistreatment’.

 

            But all it took to tear down his years of work was a single kill. Cain had taught her to read body language perfectly. And Cassandra didn’t like the statement made by the dying Drug Lord who’s throat she ripped out with her bare, blood soaked hands. His baby doll fled from Cain that day, and though he searched half the world, he never saw her again until he accepted a contract in Gotham. His daughter opposed him then, almost dying herself to stop him. She rejected him outright, and her opposition of his mission directly led to her current costumed persona of Batgirl in her crusade for absolution.

 

            Cain paused in his reflections when he heard felt something amiss just outside his solid titanium steel door. As an internationally feared killer, Cain always rated special treatment regardless of how docile he acted or how many good behavior points he racked up. The door swung open, and Cain found himself surprised to find that it wasn’t The Bat or Cassandra this time.

 

            “Shrike.”

 

            “Cain.”

 

            Cain sat up on his bed and studied the mercenary for a moment, “Care to explain, boy? I don’t recall asking for someone to break me out.”

 

            “Then it’s a good thing that’s not why I’m here, isn’t it?” Shrike answered, “I need some information. That’s all.”

 

            Cain didn’t get to be a professional killer by being stupid. He already knew where this was going as he asked, “About what?”

 

            “Batgirl.”

 

            Cain didn’t have to ask how Shrike knew about their connection. Their fighting styles were unique in all the world. Perhaps even in the history of mankind. Sooner or later, someone was going to figure it out. That, and Cassandra had visited him in some form or another and beat viciously beat the crap out of her father.

 

            “What’s to know? I trained her for a bit, like Deadshot. She left me to go her own way. The end.” He lied. The less that was actually known, the better.

 

            “She’s a Bat, I could have figured that out on my own,” Shrike hissed, “I need to know what she can do. How skilled is she, anything you can tell me.”

 

            Cain felt a warm fuzzy feeling flow through his body that he always sought to find in liquor. He’d waited year for someone to finally, finally ask this question of him. Beaming with fatherly pride and smiling like he had just won ‘Father of the Year’, he answered truthfully.

 

            “She’s broken oak doors with her bare hands, kicked in bullet proof glass, infiltrated government instillations by herself, caught arrows with her bare hands,” Cain leaned back and sighed happily, “beat Shiva without any toys, and fought The Bat to a standstill twice.”

 

            “Batman?” Shrike raised an eyebrow, “I thought she was one of his soldiers.”

 

            Cain smirked, “They’re partners, and she’s complicated.”

 

            Shrike took a moment to process this information. Finally, he asked the obvious question, “You know what she looks like under the mask, don’t you?”

 

            Shrike blinked, and he found himself thrown back against the steel door to the cell, with Cain’s left arm pinning him against the wall and his right index and ring finger firmly gripped around a rather vital part of Shrike’s neck. One wrong move, and the young mercenary knew he wouldn’t make it through the night.

 

            Cain’s eyes bored a hole into Shrike’s skull, and for a moment he said nothing at all, he simply held Shrike in a deadly position. Finally, speaking in a growl that would do a lion proud, he warned, “That, boy, is none of your damn business. You asked, I answered. I’m old and tired, and if you don’t get out of my sight, I’ll cripple you in such a way that the only thing you’ll ever feel again is pain.”

 

            Cain released Shrike, who wisely chose the better part of valor. Cain closed the door to his cell and laid back down on his cot. Tomorrow was going to be annoying, considering the dead guards outside his cell (stupid kid. Should have killed him just for that), but at least the two ‘secret’ security cameras, one installed by The Bat and the other by the prison officials, would prove Cain himself hadn’t killed the men outside.

 

            Cain considered warning Cassandra for a moment, but then thought the better of it. She’d only resent the intrusion in her life by what she saw as an overbearing father. Besides, Cain knew of Shrike’s career. He always kept tabs on the competition, after all. Content in the knowledge his daughter would be fine, Cain went to sleep, knowing he’d need the energy for tomorrow. Damn Black Gate security…

 

            ***

           

            The coffee was thicker than oil, the diner a rat hole if there ever was one and sitting across from him at his table was a prostitute of some seven years who went by the name Goldie. If you asked the mighty warrior known as Jim ten years ago if this was how he expected to spend his final days on earth, he would have laughed. But necessity was a strange creature indeed.

 

She was easy enough on the eyes, but there were weary, telling lines upon her face and Jim didn’t think much of her profession. Not that he was one to judge, being a killer and killer of failed killers. Still, Goldie worked the Gotham streets some seven years and there wasn’t a criminal in the city who hadn’t had an encounter with one night vigilante or another.

 

“So, you wanna know about the time I saw Batgirl in action, right?”

 

Jim nodded in affirmation, “Yeah, anything you can remember would be helpful.”

 

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll ever forget that night….”

 

_Goldie sometimes thought of the brutality she suffered at the hands of men as just a part of the job and part of life. That’s what her father had taught her those dark nights he visited her room. But tonight was different. Her pimp wasn’t here, and even if he was he wouldn’t try to defend her. Seven punks doped up on PCP and looking for a pound of female flesh would have killed him without blinking._

_She knew that they were going to kill her too, after they had their fun. They forced her into a dead end alley, and with her back to the wall she could see no avenue of escape. Two men to the left and right, and three slobbering in front of her. Their eyes made obscene gestures at her body while they laughed and leered at her._

_“I’ma mark that fine ass up!”_

_“Gonna cut me off a piece o’ dat, bitch!”_

_“Show you a fine time!”_

_There was a slight breeze followed by what sounded the rustling of a cape, and as one the hearts of the brutal thugs stopped, fear slicing through even their drug induced mettle._

_“The Bat…”one man had the courage to whisper._

_“Ain’t The Bat…”Another man declared, pointing towards the roof. The drug addled punks saw a slight, lithe feminine figure, draped in an ebony cape with pointy ears atop her head who regarded them curiously, “…jus’ more fun!”_

_Goldie was positive she saw the figure smile. To the surprise of everyone, the lithe form fell forward off the edge of the building like a statue and into the shadows that engulfed the end of the alley. Goldie and the punks squinted, and gaped in amazement at what appeared to be a shadow ricocheting off the walls at blinding speed._

_Billy MacDougal, standing to the right of his would-be victim, lost all his courage at that exact moment, “Okay, I…”_

_A shadow flew forward, and the heads of three of the thugs snapped to the side almost simultaneously as they spiraled into unconsciousness._

_“…surrender, please…”_

_The ebony girl landed in front of MacDougal, her eyes spitting daggers. Reaching into the folds of her cape and then threw her hand backwards over her shoulder, two batarangs dispatching another two criminals, leaving only one remaining to be dealt with._

_“…don’t hurt me…”_

_For a moment, Goldie thought her rescuer was outmatched. Her foe was six foot six with the body of a linebacker. Her defender only five foot ten, lithe and much, much smaller._

_But Batgirl didn’t miss a beat. She drove her flattened palm into the man’s lower stomach. Even braced, the attack was exceptionally painful and there would be blood in his urine for days. As the man doubled over in pain, Batgirl slapped her hands on the man’s shoulders and pulled herself upwards, both her knees colliding with the man’s face. Dropping down, all it took was a chop to the side of the man’s neck, dropping him like a sack of potatoes._

_“I give up!”_

_Batgirl looked at the man’s would be victim, and then back at the man himself._

_He never saw the fist that doctors would later tell him came within an inch of giving him a concussion._

_She then looked towards Goldie, and somehow the aged street walker didn’t feel threatened by the savage warrior, though she was far from feeling completely safe, not after how she’d just been threatened. For a few moments, the young woman who’d just defeated a gang of men in seconds stood there awkwardly, as if she unsure of what to do. Sirens began blaring in the background (likely called in advance) and Batgirl smiled at Goldie like a child trying to convince an adult of a fact they themselves were not too clear on._

_“It’s…okay now. Safe.”_

_Batgirl fired her grappling hook into the air, and swung towards the sky, disappearing into the night sky by the time the red and blue lights of Gotham P.D. filled the street._

“Anythin’ thing else you can tell me ‘bout that night that comes to mind, ma’am?”

 

Goldie took a sip of my coffee, “Yeah, it was the weirdest thing. Somehow, I don’t think she…I dunno… _got_ what those bastards were going to do to me. She acted like they just wanted my purse,” Goldie explained, “I mean I assume biologically she’s a woman, right? Was she raised in a cave or somethin’?”

 

“Never know with her father,” Jim commented. Mentally, he noted that Goldie’s information was almost exactly like every other person he’d interviewed thus far. Of the dozen people rescued by Batgirl that he’d interviewed in one fashion or another. A force of nature in combat, but awkward and uncomfortable outside of battle.

 

Jim thanked the woman for her time, gave her an envelope that contained more money than she earned in six months and left. Once Merlyn finished his mission, it would be time for that final ride in a blaze of glory.

 

***

 

Merlyn brought his binoculars up to his eyes and spied his target, Gotham’s First National Bank. Even as he stood there, a team of five disgruntled special forces were working on the roof of the bank, attempting to disable the security system that protected the Skylight. Merlyn was positioned in a Skyscaper some eleven blocks away, giving him a birds eye view of the men.

 

Unknown to the men he was watching, they were hired to break into this particular bank because it fell within what was believed to be Batgirl’s patrol pattern. All they knew was someone with a lot of money and some good intel about the bank was paying for this job, even being so generous as to let them keep the loot. Merlyn enjoyed a silent chuckle. For every idiot dressed up in spandex, there were a dozen or more who considered themselves ‘professionals’ who never wore a costume.

 

Merlyn kept a tight watch, but still he didn’t notice Batgirl’s arrival until the first man hit the ground. Another two were on the ground thanks to a single round house kick and by the time the remaining men realized they were under attack, it was too late. Merlyn winced in sympathy and though he didn’t think much of Batman and his ilk, he had to give the girl her due. She was good, damn good in fact. Not many people actually believed this crime-fighter had actually defeated the legendary Shiva, but Merlyn believed it now.

 

He watched as Batgirl secured the men for the police, dragging men who had at least a hundred pounds on her into a neat circle for the officers. What she did next almost no one could have predicted.

 

Batgirl looked up from the defeated criminals, and looked directly into Merlyn’s binoculars, the black slits that covered her eyes narrowing. There was no way she could possibly see him, yet she did. Merlyn dropped his binoculars in shock, and quickly decided to retreat. Like every good assassin, he had the perfect escape plan already mapped out following mission completion. No one short of the Flash would be able to catch him.

 

Eight minutes later, black gloved hands picked up the hastily abandoned binoculars and wondered just what was going on.

 

***

 

“I think I’ll just say what we’re all thinking. She’s metahuman,” Shrike stated, “I mean, breaking oak doors with her hands, whupping the hell out guys twice her size…no way is she human.”

 

“When was the last time there was a meta-human hero in Gotham?” Jim asked, “hell, everyone knows how The Bat feels about all the other spandex losers, even us.”

 

“Then just how the hell can she do what she does?” Merlyn asked, “I mean, she can’t be that good, can she? She’s at least Batman’s equal, and there is no way she’s been at it nearly as long!”

 

“Dunno,” Jim replied honestly, “Not completely impossible, though. When us martial artists break bricks with our fists, it tears down the bone in our fists. When that bone rebuilds, it’s a hella lot stronger. With enough conditioning, who knows what’s possible?”

 

“Enough conditioning?” Shrike asked incredulously, “to move like she does, she’d have to have been trained from birth and trained **hard**. What kind of bastard would do that to a kid? Definitely not The Bat or his toy soldiers.”  

 

Both Merlyn and Jim felt the disgust curl in their stomachs, mixed with a little sympathy. These were hardened men, ruthless professionals who dealt out death more casually than most terrorists, but even they had their limits. To them, hard training a kid was child abuse times ten. Even if the kid survived, they would probably never be ‘right’.

 

Jim pushed those thoughts from his mind. All that mattered now was his final battle against the greatest warrior in the world. Jim would try to win, of course, but he knew the outcome. The best he could do was manipulate the situation so that Batgirl killed him. Dying at the hands of a great warrior was an honor, at least in Jim’s eyes.

 

***

 

Cassandra Cain swung through the Gotham night, she found herself looking even harder for crimes than usual. A car jacking, attempted murder and gang fight were barely enough to keep her attention away from her thoughts, something she needed now more than ever.

 

Her only friend in the world, Stephanie Brown, otherwise known as Spoiler was dead. She was killed in the crossfire of a massive gang war she herself foolishly started to impress their respective mentor, Batman. It didn’t matter much to Cassandra that Spoiler was using emergency plans created by her mentor. Batman wouldn’t have created a gang war, he would have made it work perfectly. Cassandra believed that as much as she believed the sun would rise in the morning. Though it pained her to admit, Spoiler was one hundred percent responsible for the destruction and loss wrought during the gang war, as were those who didn’t follow his plans. Not Batman, never Batman.

 

That wasn’t the worst of it, though. The father of Tim Drake, the third Robin, was killed by some loser called Captain Boomerang and the Clock Tower of Oracle was destroyed, necessitating Barbara moving her Birds of Prey organization out of Gotham, where Cass couldn’t readily visit. So right now, it definitely stunk to be Batgirl. Stunk? Cass thought, was that right? Or is it suck? Crappy?

 

It was of course then something caught her eye. Atop the top level of a parking garage was a circle of cars some thirty feet around. Inside this odd circle were two mercenaries Batgirl recognized as Shrike and Merlyn, alongside a large man wearing an Easy Rider T-shirt and torn blue jeans.

 

Even if she weren’t dedicated to protecting to safety of everyone on Gotham, Cassandra would have investigated this anyway. It was just too weird, even for Gotham.

 

Swinging down and dropping in the middle, Batgirl looked at the three men curiously. For a moment, she wondered if she should talk tough like her mentor, but then realized she had no idea what these men were doing here.

 

“Shrike, you’re up,” Jim ordered as he lit a cigarette.

 

Shrike nodded, and mentally psyched himself up. He could take this girl. Even if she beat Shiva, Shiva was unarmed, something that didn’t hold Shrike back one bit. Shrike would be damned if he let Jim go down fighting this two-bit wanna be Batman. He could do this, no problem.

 

Batgirl saw the confidence in Shrike’s body, and smiled. This jerk gave Nightwing trouble since he was Robin. That didn’t sit well with Cassandra, considering Nightwing was always nice to her, from sneaking her candy in her early days as Batgirl to renting her cool movies like ‘The Princess Bride’ and ‘Lion King’ to always patiently explaining something that confused her (which happened more than Cass liked). Oh yeah, this jerk-face was going to suffer.

 

Shrike ran forward and leapt into the air with a powerful war-cry, his spiked night sticks unsheathed and ready for blood. Generally, this method of attack was perfect against lesser foes, complimenting Shrike’s speed and ferocious nature.

 

Batgirl had to stifle a yawn as she leapt up to meet Shrike in midair. She only jumped so far as to reach his shins, but that was far enough. A solid punch just underneath Shrike’s kneecap was all she needed to send the man spiraling head over heels as he returned to the blacktop. Shrike landed painfully on his back as Batgirl landed gracefully on her feet.

 

“Lucky shot,” Shrike muttered as he picked himself back up and charged again.

 

Batgirl sighed. Sometimes, not even trained fighters learned all that fast. She threw herself backwards at Shrike and spun around downwards faster than Shrike could react, her foot catching his, tripping him and sending him crashing to the ground chest first.

 

“Had enough?” Cass smiled.

 

Shrike got back up, but didn’t charge her again (finally learned, dummy). He stood tensed for a moment, weapons out as he reevaluated his tactics. Finally he rushed forward (more carefully this time) and slashed outwards with his blades. Batgirl easily sidestepped the attack and struck Shrike’s kidney with a left hook. The pain was enough to make Shrike pause, making him vulnerable. And there was virtually no one better trained to exploit that than Cassandra Cain.

 

Her right hand grabbed Shrike’s wrist and slammed it into her upraised knee, cracking the bone with ease. Shrike’s yelp of pain was interrupted with a solid left hook that snapped his head to the side, followed quickly by Cassandra firmly grabbing his broken arm and with skill most surgeons would envy, popped the bone out of the socket. Shrike crumbled to the ground in a heap, his brow furrowed and drenched in sweat as he sought to fight through the pain.

 

“Right arm’s useless. Bones in your… back chipped,” Batgirl employed ‘The Voice’, low, coldly observational and just a touch mocking, “and I have… barely even start. Surrender?”

 

They both already knew the answer, although Cassandra was more prepared than Shrike would have expected. With a mighty roar, Shrike leaped up and threw all of his weight into a roundhouse kick that would have shattered the ribcage of a normal sized man. Batgirl easily saw it coming with her ability to read body language and started moving a split second before Shrike himself started. She was already shifting her weight as the attack came. Shrike’s foot hit her left speed, and Cassandra clamped her arm down over the foot as she spun backwards, redirecting Shrike’s momentum effortlessly. Spinning 180 degrees with Shrike’s leg clamped underneath her armpit, Cassandra lifted the man off his feet and threw him into the air. Shrike flew through the air for a few brief seconds before he slammed bodily into one of the parked cars that surrounded them, shattering the glass as he sank to the ground.

 

Batgirl didn’t have a second to congratulate herself. She moved to the right, an arrow slicing through where she has just been standing. Apparently, it was Merlyn’s turn now.

 

The deadly archer known as Merlyn scowled inwardly as he saw his foe catch the second arrow. Unlike Shrike, Merlyn wasn’t lulled into believing that the two of them were just to test Batgirl’s worthiness to battle Jim. No, he knew he was here for cannon fodder pure and simple, and that pissed Merlyn off. He swore he’d kill this girl just to spite Jim.

 

However, things weren’t going as planned. Poison tipped arrows dropped to the ground like rice at a wedding as Batgirl caught arrow after arrow. She strolled towards Merlyn almost inattentively. Merlyn switched tactics and let fly an explosive arrow, but his foe didn’t even blink, dodging the arrow and slapping the tail end of it downwards, sending the arrow flying wildly over the ring of cars where it exploded harmlessly.

 

Merlyn wracked his brain for a different, more effective tactic, but he realized it was too late. Batgirl was now less than a foot away from him, and his fear allowed her to pluck his bow out of his hands like a parent taking matches from a child. Batgirl swung the fiberglass bow and smashed it across the archer’s head. Before he could recover, she grabbed him by his collar and rolled backwards, both of her legs braced against his stomach. Once she was right angle, she kicked outwards with all her strength, sending Merlyn flying through the air where he proceeded to smash into the just recovering Shrike.

 

Cassandra flipped up into a standing position, “Stay.”

 

Jim stubbed his smoke out on the pavement, a cocky smirk on his face. His chosen executioner was warmed up, and it was time for the main event. The vigilante glared at him, and what she said next surprised him.

 

“Want to die. Why?”

 

Jim never thought for a moment she knew what he intended to do. It was almost as if she read his mind! Jim recovered quickly enough and removed a two buttoned remote from his pocket.

 

“Ain’t nothin’ left for me, sweat pea.”

 

Depressing one button, there was a muffled explosion and a ring of fire encircled the ring of cars the villains had assembled. For a second or two, Cassandra was amazed. The circle of cars, now the flames…these guys were real drama kings, she thought.

 

“This here second button is tied to an explosive that I placed in the broiler room of a nearby hospital,” Jim explained, “an’ unless you kill me, I’ll detonate it.”

 

“Lie,” Batgirl said matter of factly, “no bomb. Bluff.”

 

While that was true enough (Jim had his limits), he never expected his foe to call his bluff so quickly. She spoke with such certainty Jim almost felt as though she’d must have examined all the hospitals before coming here. It almost made Jim wish he wasn’t bluffing. Still, a shift of tactics was easy enough.

 

“Either you kill me, or I kill those two,” Jim threatened, pointing at Shrike and Merlyn.

 

This time, Cassandra Cain knew he was telling the truth. Jim let that fact sink in for a second before he launched his attack.

 

Batgirl would later note that Jim’s fighting style mimicked a more skilled and powerful version of Shrike, attacking with strength, skill and unlike Shrike, thought. Batgirl blocked a punch which was meant to move her into position of a snap kick which like the first attack was meant to place her in a position for another attack. A chop aimed for her fifth and sixth rib was deflected, a flattered palm aimed at her lower jaw was blocked by the back of her wrist and on it went. Normally, Cassandra had little trouble dodging the average foe, but Jim was a little different. She could still run circles around him, but she wanted to get a feel for his style first. Once she locked that down, she could have some fun.

 

Shrike and Merlyn watched in amazement as the two master warriors sparred. Every blow, kick or chop was either dodged or blocked by Batgirl almost at the exact second Jim let it fly.

 

“Man, look at them go!” Shrike gawked, “I’ve never seen anyone that fast!”

 

“So? Once she’s done with Jim, she’ll arrest us!” Merlyn snapped. He wanted to shoot the Bat witch in the back, but she’d cut the string on his bow, “if we’re going to make a break for it, now’s the time.”

 

Batgirl removed four batarangs from her belt, two in each hand. Flipping over Jim’s head, she released them towards her two earlier foes. The first two landed on each side of the criminals. The other two embedded themselves in the metal of the cars underneath the respective criminal’s crotches.

 

“Staying is also good,” Shrike noted, staring at the razor sharp weapon that came within inches of his manhood.

 

“Agreed.”

 

Batgirl landed with her back towards Jim, but it didn’t matter. She had his style now.

 

Jim swiftly followed after her, but was blindsided when she spun around to unleash a powerful kick to his solar plexus. A right hook followed that broke his jaw, tailed by a snap kick to his knee that tore important muscles. Jim barely crossed his arms across one another to block another devastating kick that might have taken his head off. Surprisingly, there was no follow through. Batgirl simply stood there, looking at him like the cat who’d eaten the canary.

 

“Had…enough?”

 

Jim focused through the pain of his knee and stood upright, and impossible feat for men of lesser wills.

 

“Not hardly.”

 

Jim kicked out with his good leg, hoping to catch Batgirl unawares. With any other fighter, it might have worked. After all, few thought it wise to brace an attack on a bad leg, but Cassandra read his body language like it was a child’s picture book. She caught the attack easy, hooking her left arm underneath the attacking limb and with her right hand she chopped down on a key pressure point. Almost instantly Jim’s leg went numb.

 

It was at that exact moment he knew he lost the fight. Barely able to stand, he quickly shifted his tactics to defense, a good if not predictable strategy. His mistake however, was thinking that Batgirl would attack his weakened lower body now that he could barely move his legs. Batgirl knew he would think that.

 

The first fist was all it took. Jim saw stars on the edge of his vision, and he felt as though his head exploded as another blow connected. The next thing Jim remembered was his ass hitting the ground and then darkness.

 

***

 

“…hear me, sir? Sir, can you hear me?”

 

Jim tried to open his eyes, both heavily swollen. He wasn’t surprised to find himself strapped to a gurney, unable to move at all. Hell, considering his rep plus Merlyn and Shrike, he’d have been more surprised to find himself unrestrained. Not that he had any fight in him at the moment, Batgirl had seen to that.

 

“Yea,” Jim croaked.

 

“Can you tell me what happened?” The EMT asked as he looked over Jim’s battered body.

 

“Not ‘what’” Jim corrected weakly, “who.”

 

“Who then. Who did this to you?”

 

Jim forced his swollen eyes open and glanced towards a nearby building that overlooked the parking garage that was supposed to be the place where he fought his final battle. He could make out a slight, feminine shadow looking down at the whole scene.

 

“Slim.”

 

The End.

 

And that’s the end of chapter 1. Not a lot of Cassandra Cain considering it’s her book I know, but I thought I needed an intro issue more than a full issue of Cassandra Cain. Believe me when I say this series will more than make up for the lack of Cass. And trust me when I say that Batgirl will get her due as a fighter. She’s a hurricane of action and that won’t be forgotten.


	3. Chapter 3

**DC Revolutions Presents**

**Batgirl # 2**

**Matters of Circumstance Part 1**

**Explosive Interpretations**

 

 

_Location unknown_

 

            The six year old girl who would one day be named both Cassandra Cain and Batgirl awoke from her cot and stretched to awaken her muscles. Fifty push-ups and sixty sit-ups were required to get her body started on an average day. After that was done, the young girl did a hand stand, and did her push-ups like that for a half hour.

 

            Properly warmed up to begin the day, she entered the main room of what she considered, by in large, her world where the man she saw as her God, Cain, was waiting. Oh sure, she knew there was something bigger outside the walls of this house (some trees and other lesser trainers), but that never really seemed to matter. Her father, her training and this house were her entire life. Her father greeted her as he always did in the morning, with violence. Punches, kicks, nerve strikes, these were their means of discussion.

 

            Today, however, was slightly different than usual, as her father had a trick ready he’d been planning for some time.

 

            He attacked with a right when the past three weeks, he led with his left. Surprised by this sudden shift, the girl who would be Batgirl hesitated, barely sidestepping the attack and not being fast enough to avoid a snap kick that hit her in the center of her chest, expelling the air from her lungs. This was followed up by a flattened palm that struck her nose, breaking the bones within. The little girl of six years fell to the mat as Cain looked on disapprovingly.

 

            There were no tears. Violence and pain was a part of her life for longer than she could remember. All she felt was disappointment that Cain might have actually gotten the better of her. She liked making Cain proud of her, and to do that she needed to hurt him, she needed to win. Violence was love. Where other children might kiss their fathers to express fondness, she would strike hers, just like he would in return.

 

            And it was her own fault after all, for not always being ready. He only wanted to help her.

 

            Pressing her eyes shut, she pushed off the mat with all her strength. Her feet slammed into Cain’s knee that then collapsed under his own weight. Now that her father was on bended knee, the young girl jumped up, grabbed her father’s right arm and twisted it behind his back, not stopping until she heard a -snap!-. Cain grunted, but she didn’t stop there. She leapt upon her father’s shoulder and with both hands, chopped the sides of his neck, hitting key pressure points. A normal six year wouldn’t have been able stun a man twice her size, but she was different. The young girl had excellent training, amazing conditioning and perfect breeding. Cain dropped like a log into unconsciousness.

 

            The six year looked at Cain. Her ribs were bruised, her eyes were starting to swell shut because of her broken nose and blood freely trickled down her face but none of that mattered to her. She won, and that would make her father proud. That was her whole reason for living.

 

            This was what constituted an average day for her.

 

            That would all change little over a year later.

 

            She was seven now, and Cain decided it was time for his baby girl to graduate. He dressed her up in a nice pink dress, put her hair in pony tails and presented her with a picture of her target. To the young girl, the man was just another practice dummy, only he moved and breathed.

 

            It would almost be a decade later until she learned the words that accompanied her act. ‘Ripping out a man’s throat’, ‘assassinating a drug lord’, ‘murder’. These words meant nothing to the little girl who watched a man’s body screaming in terror, then saw nothingness overtake him.

 

            She realized too late that this man was in fact nothing like her practice dummies. She felt something inside her break, what others would describe as her innocence, watching the blood trickle out of her now dead target onto the desk and feeling the wet, sticky flesh in her hands and underneath her nails.

 

            She couldn’t talk, she couldn’t hope to read but she understood body language perfectly. And today was her first experience with the concepts of moral right and wrong by way of terror. Until today, terror had been a very alien concept to her.

 

            She knew then and there, somehow that her actions were so very, very wrong. That she had taken something precious she could never give back. Her father stood behind her, smiling at her and her blood soaked hands. He was happy, glowing at her, because of the terror his daughter caused. This made the little girl very mad indeed. Cassandra struck her father in anger for the first time ever in her life, and fled from him using every skill she knew. She ran and fled across continents and oceans, cities and forests. Movement was the only constant she had. As she ran and ran, she grew, taller and stronger, her blood soaked dress becoming the rags she had stolen when she was a street urchin, then becoming the black ebony uniform of Batgirl.

 

            A black wall appeared in front of her with a well known Bat-shaped embalm on it. For a moment, Cassandra felt safe. This man would protect her from Cain and under his protection, she learned things besides running. She learned to talk, what it was like to sleep in one place and provide the closest thing to real family she could have. But slowly, she could sense this barrier of protection turn against her. She blinked, and a thousand accusing fingers were pointing at her, each belong to another hero. Each were chanting a single word that echoed through her young mind.

 

“Murderer!”

 

&&&

 

_Gotham City_

 

Cassandra Cain’s eyes snapped open, her heart pounding wildly and sweat covering her like a second skin. It took her a moment to realize she was still in the apartment Batman had set her up in, sleeping in her bed.

 

She lay there for a moment, thinking. Did she just have a dream or a nightmare? So used to guilt that plagued her, Cassandra often felt uncomfortable without it. It was less since her battle with Shiva, but it was there all the same. Guilt over her killing was simply another bad fact of life, just like her monthly cycle or the occasional lucky shot.

 

Cassandra rose up from her bed and quickly dressed. Dark pants, dark socks, dark T-Shirt, well, her wardrobe wasn’t the most diverse. She preferred to always be prepared to go into action and dark clothes were good for stealth, at least that’s how she justified it to others. The simple fact was that with zero interests and knowledge of almost anything outside crime fighting, cartoons and television; she just didn’t know what she should wear other than what she already had.

 

            The apartment Batman had given her wasn’t much different. There was a TV, some basic dishes and furniture, and that was it. Even though Cassandra had been living here for some time, it still looked as though it had just been rented. Alfred constantly suggested decorations when he delivered groceries, but never told her what kind of decorations to get. It really annoyed that everyone just expected her to know certain things, like decorations, not eating cold chicken for breakfast or don’t punch out that lady who sprays you with stinky stuff at the mall. Cassandra was painfully aware of the fact that the only time she ever knew she did something wrong socially was after it happened, which was only all the time.

 

            Which in a way made her grateful for the dark costume secreted behind the full length mirror in her walk in closet. She swung it open to reveal an ebony vault with a key pad. Punching in the code, Cassandra withdrew her costume and placed it in a specially made gym back, carefully concealing it while barely paying attention. Precise movements and actions were as natural were natural as breathing to the young woman. If anyone looked inside the bag, they would find nothing suspicious.

 

            Not that that was any real concern. Cassandra had few friends, all of whom knew of her singular lifestyle as Batgirl. Oracle had been trying for some time to encourage her to do something with herself other than fight crime, but like everyone else never explained just what that something might be. Sadly, being raised as a human weapon didn’t leave Cassandra much imagination outside of combat.

 

            Closing the door to her apartment, Cassandra made her way downstairs to the garage. She ignored the occasional stares of the other tenets, who always thought it was weird they never saw her until about an hour before dark. They considered her a curiosity, though she couldn’t blame them. There wasn’t anything she could really talk to them about in regards to what she really did at night, though that didn’t keep them from guessing. Cassandra thought it was best for her self esteem that she didn’t know and didn’t want to know what ‘streetwalker’, ‘hooker’ or ‘whore’ meant. The prostitute whispers were hurtful enough.

 

            She passed a young boy reading a comic book, and for a moment the differences between her life and everyone else’s felt even sharper. She could outfight the deadliest men and women in the world, break into the most secure buildings in the world, but her reading ability was below that of a five year old. Cassandra walked just a little bit faster to escape the reminder of her inferiority to the majority of the rest of the world.

 

            Once she reached the garage, she got on her bike and peeled out as fast as the throttle would let her. She always felt the same amount of relief when she left her ‘normal life’ behind so that she could pull down her mask and continue her crusade as Batgirl. Normally, she would head out of the city towards the woods that concealed back-roads to the Batcave, where she would get her nightly patrol assignment.

 

            This day was a little different. Cassandra needed a personal detour. After a half hour of driving, she pulled into a gravel lot and parked her bike. She moved through the cemetery quickly, looking for one grave in particular. Cassandra paused only to pick up a sunflower, and wished she could have donned her mask for this task. Sometimes, in ways she couldn’t quite explain, Cassandra found the mask of Batgirl empowering.

 

            Finally, she found the tombstone she was looking for. She recognized it by sight only, and if she were asked to read what was engraved underneath the name, she would have been unable to do so.

 

            ‘Stephanie Brown. Taken too soon’

 

            To Cassandra, Stephanie Brown was better known as the purple clad vigilante Spoiler. Daughter of the fifth rate villain Cluemaster, Steph fought crime to make up for her father’s evil, to help others while dating Robin, with whom she’d fallen in love. Steph sought Cassandra out for training, and the two grew close. Or at least that’s what Cassandra let herself believe.

 

            Robin once said the two were alike because both wanted to make up for the evil and harm that their father’s had caused. That wasn’t true at all. Cassandra only wanted to wash the blood from her hands, to redeem herself, to right her greatest wrong. She didn’t care what happened to her father compared to that. As much as it pained her to admit, Cassandra still loved her father. The only sin she felt weighing her down was her own.

 

            Spoiler, on the other hand, just wanted to lash out at the world for how her father mistreated and neglected her. Criminals were just the easiest target. Once she moved past that, she tried endlessly to prove herself to the Bat-clan, instead of focusing on the innocents. That was why Batman never liked her, no matter how hard he tried to make her a better crime fighter. She wasn’t focused on the innocents, just on something less important. Batman saw this, as did Oracle and Nightwing. Robin didn’t see it because he loved her, and Cassandra chose not to acknowledge it so that she might have a friend. Spoiler’s determination to prove herself as a hero after many failures eventually led to her stealing secret emergency plans from Batman himself to unite all organized crime in Gotham under one banner. The result was a massive gang war that claimed Spoiler as one of its countless victims.

 

            That wasn’t the worst of it. Batgirl had personally seen Spoiler during the gang war. Almost instantly, she knew that her friend was somehow responsible for what was happening. The guilt and deception in her body language was obvious to the both of them. But still Batgirl tried to be a friend, warning Spoiler home in the hopes that she would be safe and protected. She could have dragged Spoiler to Batman himself. She could have beaten the information out of her (and did she ever want to). But no, she tried to protect her friend and was rewarded with her needless death.

 

            Perhaps that was what made Spoiler’s death so hard. Spoiler was only nice to Batgirl because she wanted something in return. Steph promised to teach her to read in exchange for training, but never once tried to follow through. Spoiler was maybe Cassandra’s one friend in the world, and really, she wasn’t much of one. Cassandra set the flower down and walked away, never fighting the tears that slid down her face.

 

&&&

           

Once she reached the Batcave, things were different. She felt genuine happiness and comfort while she was in this dark, damp and dreay place secreted away from the rest of the world. It allowed her to be herself, or at least what she saw herself as. Batman was nowhere to be seen, although Robin was at the Bat-computer, typing away. Even though he was trained to fight in total darkness and sense the stealthiest of foes, he hadn’t yet realized Cassandra had entered the cave.

 

            Cassandra could have been blind and she still would have sensed the anger coming from Tim Drake, the third Robin. Life had not been nice to him lately. His father was killed by Captain Boomerang, and lost two of his close friends in the recent gang war. He was tied up, or was it wound up…? She asked herself, pretty tightly. Cass had never been too close to Robin, even though they admired the same man. He was intimidated by her assassin background, and he intimidated Cass in other areas. Still, she wanted to help, and thought she knew the perfect way.

 

            So, standing only a few feet behind him, Robin still unaware of her presence as he went about his case work, Cassandra dropped her pants.

 

            “Robin.”

 

            Tim Drake spun one hundred and eighty degrees in his chair, startled that someone had snuck up on him. And he spun back around just as quickly when he saw the fearsome Cassandra Cain in just her bra and underwear. Tim vowed to talk to Barbara about teaching Cass the finer points of social graces as he burned eye holes into the keyboard.

 

            “Jeezus Cass, you want to give me a heart attack!?” Tim snapped.

 

            “Am dressed,” Cassandra Cain was now wearing her uniform, full body black suit with cape, hollow Bat symbol on her chest and the area around her mouth stitched closed like that of a scarecrow, “spar.”

 

            Robin went back to his typing, “I’m not in the mood to get my butt handed to me, Cass. Maybe later.”

 

            “Go easy,” Cass punched Tim lightly on the shoulder in a ‘don’t make me drag you kicking and screaming’ sort of way, “promise.”

 

            “Fine,” he sighed. Tim saved his work and followed Cass to the mat. With her standing on the opposite end, he mentally prepared himself for combat. He didn’t even try to suppress the anger that had been bubbling beneath the surface lately. He had work to do, and here Batgirl was just pulling him away from that so they could ‘play’ which usually meant sucking mat. Like life was some game. Like what they did was just a past time. Just what was with this bitch anyways?

 

            With anger like that beating through his chest, it was no surprise Robin attacked first. Cass blocked a left hook, and was struck with a kick to the stomach. Robin fought with every last ounce of skill he had, knowing he’d need it just to hope to keep up with Batgirl, practice or not. If people outside the Bat-clan knew about her ability, Tim was certain Batgirl would be a legend.

 

            But that didn’t seem to be the case at the moment. Tim scored a solid left hook to Batgirl’s head. Batgirl barely blocked a sweeping kick with her wrists before a follow through kick smashed into her stomach. With two solid hits against his foe, Robin instantly realized what Cassandra was really doing.

            “You’re letting me hit you.”

 

            Cassandra looked at him innocently, “Yes. Is helpful?”

           

            Tim shook his head in confusion, “What the hell…I mean, what are you talking about?”

 

“Want you to…feel better. Get rid off…anger,” she explained with precise logic.

 

            Robin’s body language was one of shock and confusion, which in turn confused Batgirl, “By hitting you? Cass…”

 

            Speechless, Tim Drake just walked away disgusted, both with himself and what Batgirl wanted him to do. Batgirl watched him walk away, wanting to say something. But she found herself at a loss for words (not too uncommon) as she realized with regret she once again had no idea what she'd done wrong.

 

            A reassuring hand fell upon her shoulder, and even though she didn’t sense the man coming she still felt a little better. After all, there was only one man she knew of who could sneak up on her.

 

            The Batman.

 

            To the criminal element, The Batman was wraith of cunning and skill. Rumors about his true nature, human, meta or even demon persisted despite his lengthy career. There were those who feared the Bat so much they shrunk from any shadow just for peace of mind. Those that didn’t fear his fists and threats, feared his investigative ability or cunning mind. Batman matched wits with some of the most insane geniuses, or lethally unpredictable foes night in night out. There was no locked room that Batman couldn’t stroll into, and no secret he couldn’t unearth or deduce with only the slightest bit of information. To criminals big and small he was unbridled terror. Once The Batman had you in his sights, a prison cell became a cold, hard fact.

 

            To young Cassandra Cain, however, Batman was something completely different.

 

            She didn’t see him as a father figure, despite the whispers of others said. The darkness that seemed to radiate from him was a shining beacon to the young girl. She saw him as something bigger, greater than a mere father. She would have pledged herself to him if all he did was shield her from her father and gave her a home. But he didn’t stop there. He gave her a costume, no, purpose, like his, one that allowed her redeem herself. So much better, greater, than any father could ever hope to be.

 

            “Only wanted…to help.”          

 

            “I know,” Batman responded evenly, instantly relieving Cassandra’s guilt. With the slightest of gestures, he silently signaled for Batgirl to follow, “the coming months will be difficult for Robin, and we need to be careful how we approach them.”

 

            To Cassandra, that combined with his body language translated politely into ‘let me handle Robin’, which was fine with her. She wanted to help, not make things worse (again). And Batman could handle anything.

 

            “And Cassandra?”

 

            Batman’s face become stone cold. He employed what Nightwing and Robin jokingly referred to as ‘The Look’, that piercing glare that made criminals confess to the most serious of crimes, sent fear rippling through the most seasoned warrior and made even some of the greatest heroes take notice. ‘The Look’ was naturally accompanied by ‘The Voice’, a low and gravelly tone that sounded like Satan himself had just arisen. To Cassandra though, this all just meant that Batman had something especially important to say, “Don’t you **_ever_** again allow anyone, and I mean anyone… to hit you to make themselves feel better or to vent their anger on your body. Are we clear?” he finished through gritted teeth.

 

            Cassandra paused. She vaguely remembered Oracle once debating with someone on her computer, about the fact that women should be allowed to do what they want with their bodies, though the whole row against wade admittedly confused her. Oracle was for it, and Cassandra agreed with what she understood.

 

            Still, this was Batman.

 

            “As glass,” Cassandra answered.

 

            The two leapt into the Batmobile, and sped out of the cave like a NASCAR leaving pit row. Batgirl allowed the scenery pass by at breakneck speeds as she attempted to muster her courage for what she knew she had to ask next.

 

            “Why?”

 

            Batman didn’t have to ask for clarification. On some levels, the two of them were closer than any other members of the Batclan.

 

            “Following Spoiler’s…”

 

            “Not her!” snapped Batgirl, both angry and defensive.

 

“I never said you were,” Batman evenly replied as he stared straight ahead, “As I was saying, following Spoiler’s overzealous actions and the recent events concerning Robin and Oracle’s departure, I feel it’s best to reevaluate my… relationships and make adjustments where needed.”

 

Batgirl sunk back in her seat, somewhat satisfied with his answer. But just underneath the surface though, she was deeply concerned. What if Batman believed in her murder while he was reevaluating her? Oracle knew about her single kill, and had secretly told her Batman didn’t believe it. Killing was one thing The Batman never accepted, and murder was a thousand times worse. As this was all she had, any threat to her way of life naturally made the young woman terribly uncomfortable, if not downright scared.

 

After a silent ride, Batman pulled into a dark alley and the duo disembarked. Without a sound between them, they scaled the nearby fire escape until they reached the roof. From there, the two crime fighters began leaping from one roof to another. Cassandra had little idea where they were going exactly, but she never questioned Batman. She respected the fact that he never took a single unnecessary movement, or needless action. Like her, his every action was carefully calculated for maximum effect. Batgirl could see that, even if no one else wanted to.

 

Finally, they came upon their final building and the Dark Knight motioned for Cassandra to be silent, more out of habit than need. Pointing towards the edge, Batgirl poked her head over and saw a half dozen armed men keeping watch on the roof. As the roof she was on was twelve feet above them with an alley eight feet wide, they never thought to look up.

 

“They’re protecting Zeiss. Apparently, Black Mask is rewarding him for his assistance during the gang war, making him a top enforcer,” Batman explained in a passive voice, but Batgirl could see the anger in his body. He held himself responsible for Spoiler’s death, even if it was Black Mask who killed her.

 

Cassandra could relate. Batgirl briefly felt anger bubble up within her chest just thinking about it. Black Mask was the one who killed Spoiler. Were it not for Batman’s edict to leave Black Mask to him and him alone, the young vigilant would have torn the criminal element of Gotham in two looking for him.

 

Batman handed his young a special devise he’d brought along for this mission. He spoke to Batgirl silently about what he expected of her, and what she was to do. Cassandra understood perfectly, remaining equally silently.

 

This was why she loved the mask, Cassandra realized. She had a place in the world, where she knew what to expect and others knew what to expect of her. Anything that was asked of her, she could do and do well.

 

With a glance she carefully appraised the situation as she vaulted over the ledge. Four men in each corner and two talking to one another by the stair well. Landing silently next to the two jabbering criminals, Cassandra grabbed the back of their heads and smashed their faces together before her presence registered, sending them into slumber land.

 

            She let them fall noisily to the ground, alerting the men atop the roof. The four sentries started yelling, but the threats were so much white noise to her. Only one man on the roof was armed with a gun, the rest with chains or clubs. Batgirl’s first choice of targets was obvious.

 

            The armed thug saw Cassandra racing towards him at fifteen feet. By the time he screwed up his courage to aim his weapon and fire, she was at eight feet. But by the time his finger pulled the trigger, Batgirl was already in the air. She flew over the man almost completely, her knee smashing his nose while her momentum carried her over him. Made of slightly stronger stuff than the average punk, the man swung his gun around in the vain hope of catching the young girl with her back turned. Black gloved hands grabbed the barrel, and swung it up and across the man’s face, sending him into unconsciousness.

 

            The remaining three stood side by side as one, pooling their courage in the hopes they could do together what none of them could hope to do apart.

 

            They attacked as a wall of men. Cassandra kicked the man in the middle in the gut. As he went down, she put her hands forward and jumped atop the man’s back. Balancing only on her hands, she swung both legs to the right and took out thug number one, and did the same to thug number three. Cassandra pushed off her human platform, landing in front of the wheezing man.

 

            There was no special malice or even hate as her booted foot flew almost straight up, snapping the man’s head back while blood exploded out of his mouth. To Cassandra, beating up people, breaking bones and tearing muscles, was largely an impersonal thing. It was just something she did in the process of protecting innocents, to save lives. It was as natural as breathing to her. Her foes were just minor obstacles.

 

            By now, over a dozen obstacles were starting to spill out of the roof entrance. They were armed with chains, knives and nail ridden baseball bats. No guns, both because they would be useless in a mob like this, and because there wasn’t a criminal in Gotham who didn’t know how **_he_** felt about those weapons. Guns were only worth the extra pain they brought when they could be used freely, that was the unspoken mantra of the Gotham under world.

 

            Batgirl moved into action instantly. The first thug to reach her swung his chain hoping to take her head off. Batgirl easily ducked the swing and slammed her flattened palm into the man’s kidneys. She plucked the chain out of his fist as he felt backwards and cracked it like a whip, disarming one man of his lead pipe. Swinging her stolen weapon above her head, Cassandra bought herself some quick breathing room.

 

            &&&

 

            From his vantage point, The Batman watched his young charge go about her work. He nodded approvingly as a drop kick disabled the lead man. He found the young woman’s tactics to be flawless, as she dropped the largest foe in the direction of all the others, tripping them up. Batgirl then smashed her elbow into the thug behind her and backhanded the scum who came at her from the side.

 

            He allowed himself to admire her skill and grace, dominated by conservation. No move was wasted; everything was calculated for maximum effect. Not like Robin, who sometimes tried too hard to perfect a move as it should be completed in a dojo and not actual combat. Not like Nightwing, who for all his years as a crime-fighter still had some showmanship in his style.

 

            Batman knew that one’s fighting style reflected something within that person. And that was why he trusted Batgirl like he trusted his right arm. She asked so little of him, he thought, because they were equals in their mission, in their dedication, skill and ideals.

 

            To Batman, she was the perfect soldier. He could turn his back to her at any time and be secure in the knowledge that not only would she be safe, but that she would complete her mission. There were few people in the world over more effective than her. On the streets, at least…

 

            &&&

 

            Three bataranges met the skulls of three thugs. A right hook dropped one man; a snap kick took down another. Cassandra flipped over one man who charged her with a knife. As she came down, she grabbed the man underneath the elbows and using her strength and weight, lifted the man over her head and flung him bodily into another four assailants. Even with that, Batgirl knew she was completely surrounded by at least a dozen remaining thugs. She leaped up onto the top of the roof entrance and crouched there, pulling her cape closer to her slender form.

 

            Her enemies began circling her like vultures, even though so many of their number lay wounded or incapacitated. The young martial artist could only smile at their overconfidence. Reaching into her belt, she produced two specially designed grenades.

 

            Pulling the pins, she lobbed them into the mob that surrounded her. Some of the men stood paralyzed in fear, some scrambled backwards only to trip over their fallen brethren. The two grenades exploded in a thick black smoke, engulfing the entire rooftop.

 

            Batgirl sprang from her perch and landed atop the head of one criminal, and leaped atop the head of another like a frog jumping from one lily pad to another. She was as equally blind as her foes, but in her mind’s eye she had already seen their movements and was as confident in their location as she was in the next sunrise. She reached the last stepping stone of a criminal and with all the power her legs could give her, threw herself over the edge of the building.

 

            Cassandra fell towards the pavement head first in a suicide dive. Almost indifferently, she reached behind her back and grabbed her grappling gun. She aimed it towards the building, and fired. Once the titanium steel claws embedded themselves into the stone wall, Batgirl calmly waited several seconds, then pressed the catch button on her grappling gun, the metal swing line instantly pulling taut.

 

            &&&

 

            Jack O’Connor and Peter Mulley were chosen as part of the final guard because they were respected hitmen. The idea was that any night time intruder would wear themselves out with the cannon fodder above and be easier prey. To back them up they had two young wanna be ninja punks and Wallace ‘The Wall’ McCoy, three hundred and six pounds of mean and muscle. They were the last line of defense to Zeiss’ loft and when Batgirl smashed through the hallway window feet first, they reacted like professionals, drawing their guns from their shoulder holsters as they stood side by side hoping to catch their prey in the crossfire.

 

            All the glass from her entrance hadn’t landed by the time Batgirl caught the men by their wrists, before they could take aim. Applying pressure to key points, she kept them from putting that final bit of force to the triggers. Her right foot flew up and smashed O’Connor in the face, and then slung to the side to slam Mulley’s face, and brought it back to O’Connor’s skull. Her foot ricocheted back and forth between them, and by the time they felt the second blow, three more had already landed.

 

            Batgirl allowed the men to fall unconscious to the ground, though she slipped their weapons out of their hands. The two wanna be ninjas charged towards her, and Cassandra slung the guns forward with expert skill. The butts hit the frontal lobes of her foes, dropping them like flies. Batgirl somersaulted past them, focused on her final target.

 

            Wallace ‘The Wall’ McCoy say Batgirl coming, but by the time his brain got the command to ‘panic!’, her steel toed booted feet were only inches from his chest. Batgirl struck him with such force that the massive man mountain was lifted off his feet and sent crashing through the oak door that he had been protecting.

 

            Cassandra stepped off the man and quickly scanned her surroundings. The room was large and spacious, just like a dojo, or the old house Cain had trained her in. The far wall was lined with all types of guns, spears and blades, not a single one unknown to the young woman.

 

            Cassandra removed the devise that Batman had given her from her belt and placed in on the floor. She sensed Zeiss behind her, but kept her back to him.

 

            “So, the big bad Bat sent a little girl after me?” Zeiss was a prime physical specimen, well built and well tone body that came from years of mastering martial arts. He was also gifted with special cybernetic implants in his brains and eyes, that combined with metal goggles allowed him to analyze his foes, see their body language and in theory, react faster. The Sicilian enforcer spit on the ground dramatically, “I wonder just how badly I will have to hurt you to get him to fight me himself.”

 

            Batgirl slowly stood up and turned around. Now was the time for hate.

 

            “Left arm.”

 

            “Excuse me?”

 

            “Think I…will break your…left arm first,” Cassandra explained casually.

 

            “Heh, you have spirit,” Zeiss brandished a custom made knife, “let me see if I can’t cut that out of you.”

 

            Batgirl was already moving to her left, Zeiss’ attack telegraphed a mile away. She slapped his thrusting motion aside with the back of her right hand, and with her left hand chopped her foe in the throat. To her mild surprise, Zeiss kept fighting, even though he could barely breathe. He flipped the knife over in his hand and swung it backwards. Batgirl ducked underneath the blade and came up with an uppercut to her opponent’s stomach that forced him to his knees.

 

            Rather than continue her assault, Cassandra chose to step back for a moment. She wasn’t overly concerned about the danger. Even though her foe had special enhancements that made him a threat to others, he was nothing to her. Batgirl could ‘see’ him as a fighter, his weaknesses and strengths. Like her, he could read body language enabling him to predict his foe’s next move. However, his understanding sucked. One move, two, that was it.

 

            He had no idea how to see the patterns of body language, the rhythms that every fighter had, even if they couldn’t see it. He couldn’t predict his foe’s next move blinded folded. He relied too much on a single trick. And because of that, he couldn’t pose a threat. Not to her, anyways.

 

            Batgirl put her right foot forward, and rushed towards Zeiss. He saw her coming, too fast to counter attack, but not defend himself. He placed his hands down towards his crotch, thinking she was aiming at his manhood. That’s what his cybernetic enhancements told him she was aiming for.

 

            They were wrong.

 

            Batgirl bounded through the air, both her knees smashing into the enforcer’s chest. The young Bat then slammed her flattened palm into Zeiss’ jaw as she came down followed by a right hook that sent stars swimming through his vision. Batgirl’s right arm kept moving and she grabbed his left arm and pivoted her body, swinging him into the far wall where he painfully slammed against the many weapons.

 

            “Stupid…move…batbitch,” Zeiss gasped. He grabbed a scythe with a chain and weighted end attached to it, “I’ve spent hours mastering every weapon here!”

 

            Zeiss began spinning the chain faster and faster over his head and smiled as Batgirl began to step backwards. He’d teach Batman to send his little kids after him. He’d carve this batslut up yet as he savored the look of her…smiling?

 

            Batgirl reached into her utility belt and produced a single, ultra sharp bat shaped throwing star. She casually flung it slicing into the air where it embedded itself into the hand of Zeiss that was spinning the chain. The pain instinctively made the man release his grip, and the chain slid out of his grip and wrapped itself around his neck three times before Zeiss regained his grip, just as Batgirl planned.

 

            Zeiss foolishly dropped his scythe and began clawing at the chain as he struggled for breath. He managed to get some slack around his neck, but felt his blood chill when the chain grew taut.

 

            Standing several feet away with both ends of the chain wrapped around her left hand, was Batgirl.

 

            “No…”

 

            Batgirl pulled the cybernetic killer forward where he met her right fist. Cassandra did this three times before it grew boring. Gripping the chain in both hands, she pulled him forward and kneed him in the stomach several times. With each punch or kick, Zeiss was pushed a little farther back towards the wall that displayed all his proud weapons.

 

            Zeiss, as he struggled to stay conscious, didn’t think Batgirl noticed this. Reaching behind with his left hand, he grabbed a V shaped Bundi dagger and thrust it forward for Batgirl’s slim gut. With speed and grace, Batgirl sidestepped the weapon while wrapping the remaining length of her chain around her vicious foe’s arm twice.

 

            “What…did I say…about your left arm?”

 

            Zeiss was paralyzed in fear and anticipation. Given how she’d wrapped the chain around his arm, Zeiss knew he couldn’t move his arm quickly without snapping his neck or at least choking himself.  

 

            So he screamed especially loud when the flattened palm of Cassandra’s right hand slammed into the joint of his left arm. Muscles tore and boned snapped as Zeiss’ arm twisted into an awkward, unnatural form. Cracking the chain like a whip, Cassandra reset the arm into its natural (but still broken) position. The wounded killer dropped to one knee, cradling his broken arm to his side.

 

            “I’ll…I’ll kill you…”

 

            Cassandra stepped over his right shoulder, placing his right arm between her legs, “Right arm now.”

 

            Zeiss wouldn’t have been able to react fast enough if he was in perfect health. Grabbing her foe’s remaining unbroken arm firmly; she pulled it straight up until she heard a familiar –snap! - and cry of pain. Cassandra stepped away from Zeiss’ defeated form, allowing him wallow in his agony.

 

            “Had enough?”

 

            “Kill…kill you,” Zeiss could still gasp out futilely.

 

            That was the wrong answer on so many levels.

 

            Batgirl pulled her foot back and punted Zeiss on his chest so hard he was lifted up off his feet. With frightening speed, she grabbed his neck with her left hand and slammed him into his wall of (useless to him) weapons.

 

            “You helped…Black Mask. Black Mask…murdered my friend,” her eyes, filled with looks of rage and murder narrowed as she pulled her other hand back, posed to strike, “so why shouldn’t I…kill you?”

 

            Zeiss finally snapped, begging and pleading for his life. This girl had humiliated and most certainly wasn’t The Bat, who would never murder. The man who murdered so many screamed pathetically as Batgirl struck his neck with her ring and index finger. As darkness consumed him, he honestly never expected to wake up.

 

            But of course, he would. Cassandra vowed never to kill again before she even learned to speak. But she knew how to deceptively convey the threat with expert skill. It also helped that after all this time; she was still an unknown variable to the underworld. Her defeat of Shiva was known to only a select few and even fewer believed it. The enigma that was Batgirl was assisted by the rumors and misinformation both Oracle and Batman secretly spread.

 

            Batgirl stepped away from Zeiss’ defeated form and strode to she’d placed Batman’s device earlier. It was a small digital recorder that had seen the entire fight. Enforcers like Zeiss depended upon their reputation for work, but come tomorrow almost every current crime lord in Gotham would receive an email with a video attachment of the once fearsome killer being humiliated by a little girl. It would be nothing short of a miracle if Zeiss found work again.

 

            Batman met her at the doorway and returned her grappling gun. He looked at Zeiss and then to his young charge, but said nothing.

 

            In truth, no words were needed. Batgirl could see the approval in his eyes, in his stance. Cassandra felt as though she needed nothing more in the world.

 

            After all, this was an average day for her.

 

            Once they reached the Batmobile, they learned that tonight may not be so average after all. A yellow light blinked across the consul between the two seats. The yellow light indicated a priority transmission from Oracle, the digital wonder. Neither hesitated as they slid into their seats, but both had their issues talking to Oracle.

 

            For Batman, personally, he was in no hurry to speak to her. Oracle had decided to ‘take a break’ from him and his mission. That anyone would take a break from the mission, however slightly, rankled, even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself

 

            For Batgirl, she just didn’t want to talk to Oracle at all. They were once and in some ways still close, but Cass held a grudge. The last time they’d talked, Oracle called her stupid (how was she supposed to know reading a manual would shut down a robot?). Friends weren’t supposed to say something so hurtful to each other, no matter how true. Crossing her arms and looking out the window, Cassandra nevertheless listened as Batman signaled Oracle he’d returned.

 

            “Go ahead Oracle.”

 

            Barbara Gordon’s face appeared across the consul. She didn’t look particularly happy, her face almost as serious as Batman’s.

 

            “Bruce, I just received a tip about a possible robbery at Wayne Enterprises’ office building at Tenth and Main for tonight.”

 

            Batman’s jaw tightened. That particular building was what amounted to a corporation substation that conducted limited industrial experiments and due to a recent move, contained the bulk of the company’s considerable human resources department. The social security numbers contained within the databases alone was worth millions.

 

            “Anything else?”

 

            “Nothing concrete. The information’s vague at best. My informant was fairly certain that whoever was behind this theft was a meta-human, but like I said my information limited. Be careful.”

 

            “Understood, we’ll handle it.”

 

            “’We’?” Oracle looked to the side, “Cass? How…how are you doing?”

 

            Silently reaching over, Batgirl terminated the connection. Batman raised a curious eye brow.

 

            “That was unnecessary,” chided Batman.

 

            “Comm-links are not…chat rooms,” Cassandra repeated from memory.

 

            “Exceptions can be made.”

 

            “Observed.” Replied the teenage heroine in a hushed tone. Batman didn’t press the issue further, but he a moment he thought he heard his charge sniffle. He simply dismissed it as his imagination. She was a good soldier, one of the finest he reminded himself.

 

            &&&    

 

            Batgirl crept along the darkened hall with ease, no louder snowfall in winter. Batman had sent her ahead to observe the men who were breaking into the ‘Human Resources department’ (whatever that was) while Batman made his way to the guard station to use the monitors to access the entire threat.

 

            Creeping past the transparent glass door at the entrance to the office, Batgirl scanned her surroundings. There seemed to be an endless row of cubicles with individual several offices at the far end. She could hear voices in one of the offices, and with great care and stealth, began her approach.

 

            &&&

 

            “How much longer will this take, Mr. Borken?”

 

            Adam Borken felt his hands tremble just a little bit more when his employer addressed him. Standing seven foot, six inches Adam was by no means the average computer geek. With muscles to match his brains, he’d forged himself a nice little niche for the Gotham underworld. Whenever a Gotham mastermind needed some hacking done, or some files encrypted, they called Mr. Borken. The Joker, Two-Face, Black Mask, in his macho bravo none of those Rogues scared him too much, but none scared him like his current employer, the Crazy Quilt, did.

 

            Of course, Crazy Quilt, the second…man to bear that name, was nothing like them in so many ways. Almost his entire body was covered in a black, chitinous armor, like a giant beetle with sharp, claw like hands. Only his head was exposed, with pasty white skin that looked like the decayed corpse of a chemo patient while the man himself smelled like an infected, puss filled wound. He was a little shorter than Adam himself, but he didn’t doubt his employer could snap him in half with a shrug.

 

            Trembling in fear of a man named Crazy Quilt; Adam would have laughed if he weren’t constantly fighting for control of his bladder every second he was around the man.

 

            “Just a few more minutes, sir. I’m transferring the information to a secure database. Once I’ve finished, your boys on the other end will disconnect the modem, which with a few other tricks will make sure no one will follow the trace.”

 

            Batgirl placed her head against the thin plaster wall. With her directional microphone built into her glove and connected to her earpiece, she could hear the two talk as if she were in the room.

 

            “Excellent. That information could be worth millions on the black market, to say nothing of the money I’ll make off the futures market.”

 

            “I’m nearing completion now, sir.”

 

            “Good. Do try to hurry up and keep working,” Crazy Quilt swung him arm outwards where it extended like a whip, smashing straight through the wall, barely missing Batgirl’s head. As she fell backwards Crazy Quilt exploded through the wall, landing at the end of the hall.

 

            “It appears we have company…”

 

            Batgirl grabbed a batarang as she crouched down. Her foe had deliberately placed himself between her and the exit. For anyone else, that might have been a wise tactic. But Batgirl rarely took retreat into consideration.

 

            She sized up her foe on instinct. Meta-human, from the way he stood most likely super strength, arms that extended like whips and some sort of body armor. Something she’d have to take into consideration when she made her blows. Maybe an acid would work…?

 

            Crazy Quilt moved like lightning, shooting his arms out like fishing hooks. Batgirl easily leapt over them, but realized her mistake too late. Retracting his arms with amazing speed, the diseased villain managed to catch Cassandra and slam her up against his armored body.

 

            “I find it hard to believe you are one of the legendary night stalkers of this city,” Quilt grinned, revealing fanged canines like Cassandra had seen on monster movies. Batgirl struggled, and though she was far stronger than the average girl her age, she was still human. Crazy Quilt held her easily as his fangs pierced her ebony uniform and sank into her flesh.

 

            “Yeeargghh!”

 

            Crazy Quilt dropped Batgirl and recoiled in equal parts agony and awe.

 

            “Your kind…are not supposed to be warriors!” he hissed.

 

            “What about my kind?” growled a familiar voice. Crazy Quilt was struck aside with incredible force, toppling the cubicle wall he slammed into. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs, and wasn’t the least bit surprised when he saw who had assaulted him.

 

            “Well, if it isn’t the Batman, the not so urban myth,” Crazy Quilt stood up, “is it take your daughter to work day?”

 

            The Dark Knight never removed his eyes from his foe, “Batgirl, there’s a team of five two floors down in the northern section of the building. They’re in the labs, so take caution. Some of the material stored there is inflammable.”

 

            Batgirl nodded in understanding and dashed away, leaving her mentor alone with Crazy Quilt.

 

            “Such a lithe little girl. Tell me Batman, does she serve you in other…more intimate ways?”  

 

            The villain never saw the batarangs coming. The second they struck the criminal, they exploded with horrific force, blasting Quilt through another five cubicles. Though Batman didn’t deign to answer Quilt, the villain still got the message.

 

            &&&

 

            Jack Millar ran his finger over the hammer of his gun for the millionth time. He was a small, scrawny man who knew enough to know he didn’t know enough. Flunking out of High School, he fell into petty crime. Soon petty crime became more and more serious, as did the jail sentences that he received. Now a two time loser, he knew the next bust would be his last.

 

            But at the same time, he needed the money. No one hired ex-cons like him, the rent was due and the payoff was promised to be ridiculous, even if the employer looked like Satan himself. But all the same, his nerves were shot, sweat trickled down his brow and he wouldn’t feel safe until they were back at the safe-house.

 

            So it was only natural he was the only one who saw Batgirl coming. His four comrades were busy scouring the lab for anything that might help in the creation of illicit drugs a mere twenty feet away. Jack saw some oxygen tanks as his cohorts fell and thus was borne a plan of pure desperation.

 

            “Stop!” Jack yelled as he aimed his gun at the tanks. Batgirl complied, but only because the man’s allies were already unconscious at her feet, “I’ll shoot if you don’t let me go!”

 

            Batgirl carefully considered her options. There was no way she could reach the man before he fired on the tanks. He was desperate to the verge of suicide. She also recognized the symbols on the tanks which indicated they might be explosive.

 

            But Batman had personally assured her they weren’t.

 

            Stuck between her own personal instincts, experience, logic and Batman’s word, she felt there was no choice at all.

 

            Batgirl rushed forward.

 

            Millar fired.

 

            And one second later, all hell rushed forward.

 

            &&&

 

            The impossibly sharp claws swung wide over the Dark Knight’s head. He lashed out with a snap kick that caught his foe in the mid section and drove him back. The cubicle walls were scattered in disarray, something Quilt found to battle upon, but not the Dark Detective. As the ebony villain stumbled backwards, the grim avenger scooped a large computer monitor and flung it through the air where it slammed into his foe’s head.           

 

            Batman stood his ground for a moment. For all his skill, he was still human whereas his enemy was not. He had three deep cuts across his stomach, slashes from Quilt’s claws and a bruised jaw, and while he needed a moment of rest he was confident he could still win this battle.

 

            Crazy Quilt looked marginally better, but that was only because he healed much quicker. The cuts and bruises caused by the monitor had already healed. Batman focused his attacks on his foe’s head, and had dished out enough punishment to kill five men, but Quilt still stood.

 

            “Tell me, are you going to stare me to death, Batman. They tell me I’m supposed to fear you, but I wouldn’t call myself Crazy Quilt if I cared for the opinions of others.”

 

            “Crazy Quilt…”Batman allowed the words to roll off his tongue, “…yet you appear to have no connection to the first man to bear that name, and you’re far from colorful with that ebony armor.”

 

            The eyes of the armored villain bulged.

 

            Batman withdrew a razor sharp batarang from his belt, “What will happen when I strip you of your armor, Quilt?”

 

            The floor rumbled, and this time it was Batman who felt shock and fear race through his mind.

 

            “I suppose we’ll have to find out some other time, Batman. Continue to battle me, or save your charge?”

 

            Crazy Quilt smirked, and then strolled away as if he couldn’t be bother to pay attention any longer. And though Batman longed to finish the fight, to capture a man who sought to undermine the company his father had given him, his course was clear. Crazy Quilt would have to wait.

 

            &&&

 

            Cassandra Cain felt the world spin into focus, her head pulsating pain. From the lack of natural light, she could tell she was resting in the medical wing of the Bat-cave. Naturally, both Batman and Alfred were nearby, and had approached when they observed she was regaining consciousness.

 

            “Batman…? What…happened?”

 

            “That’s what I’d like to know,” the tone was harsh, but controlled. One glance at the man’s body language, and Cass knew her mentor was angry, “While I was rescuing you and those men, Crazy Quilt escaped with at least five million dollars worth of information. Care to tell me how you allowed the situation to get out of hand? I warned you those chemicals in the lab were flammable!”

 

            “Sir, this is really not the time to be discussing this,” Alfred interrupted, “this can wait until she’s properly rested.”

 

            “No,” interrupted Batgirl, “not warn flammable. Warned inflammable.”

 

            Batman gave her an odd (and still angry) look, so Cassandra explained further,

 

            “Inflammable. Inescapable, can’t escape. Inexcusable, can’t…excuse,” Cassandra explained with (to her) perfect logic, “inflammable…can’t flame,…right?”

 

            Batgirl could count on one hand the amount of times she’d ever seen Batman completely surprised. He quickly spun around, drawing his cape close so that she could see nothing of his body language.

 

            “Get some rest, Cassandra. When you’re well, we’ll need to sort some matters out.”

 

            &&&

 

            The first time Cassandra fell asleep, she awoke in one of the guest rooms in Wayne Manor. She passed the day like any other, watching simply T.V. Alfred brought her lunch and dinner, but he remained reserved about the whereabouts of Batman other than to say she had strict orders to stay out of the cave and to recuperate. Cass could see the worry in his body, but the aged Butler would say no more.

 

            &&&

 

            Deep below the multi-million dollar estate, Batman was stationed in front of the multi-million dollar Cray computer dubbed fittingly enough the Bat-computer. It held the combined databases of the FBI, Gotham City Police Department and DEO, along with extensive profiles of every single rogue who ever set foot in Gotham City, in its massive memory banks. And right now, the mammoth super-computer was focused on one thing and one thing only.

 

            A scene from Cassandra Cain’s young life was playing across the monitor. She was eight years old, looking like a kid in a candy store as she approached a Cuban drug lord. She leapt up upon the desk, and ripped the man’s throat out. The tape ended there.

 

            Batman knew the man on the tape was dead, throat ripped out with expert skill just like in the video. The tape had been sent by Cain, who claimed it was authentic. He even went so far as to volunteer the autopsy report. There was nothing to refute, and everything to confirm it.

 

            That was why The Batman was going over every panel, every figurative inch trying to determine if somehow, someway the tape had been forged or fabricated. He’d only given it a cursory examination in the past due to more pressing matters and he’d never come back to it, for reasons he wouldn’t admit to himself.

 

            But Batgirl’s brush with death because of a simple grammar misunderstanding clearly demonstrated his tactics with her were not working. He needed to start at square one, at the beginning.

 

            As he watched the video, he thought back to what he knew of Cassandra’s early childhood. He’d seen one video when Cain had shot the girl, no…child in the shoulder while she was playing, just to keep her alert. Cain kept a vivid video archive of his daughter’s…abuse masked as training, and not a single tape failed to sicken and enrage the Dark Knight, and he was a man who raised himself to be intimately familiar with the dark side of human nature.

 

            Finally, he came to the only logical conclusion he could. With rage that dwarfed the brightest sun, he slammed his hand down upon the consul, shattering the keyboard into a million pieces.

 

            &&&

 

            On the third day of convalescence, Cassandra awoke to see her Batgirl uniform draped across a chair in the corner. She only noticed the mask was missing when she finished.

 

            Presuming the costume meant that everything was fine, Cassandra made her way to the Batcave, ready to resume her work. The Grandfather Clock was swung open in an almost invitation. Descending into the damp darkness, Cassandra began to feel alive again.

 

            But when she stepped down the final step and came into full view of the Batcave, her heart stopped and her mouth ran dry.

 

            “Cassandra…”

 

            Batman stood in full view of the Batcomputer, holding her stitched mask in one hand. Plastered across the high definition monitor was a digital recording of her first kill. Her hands had just begun to sink into the man’s flesh, as blood spurted out like juice from a ripe fruit. Batman’s cold eyes were cast upon her with a seriousness that terrified her.

 

            “…we need to talk.”

 

 **Next issue:** Batman vs. Batgirl in an emotional battle of wits! ‘Nuff said!        

 

Continuity points for those who care

 

 **Spoiler:** She was the girlfriend of Tim Drake, the current Robin. She put on a costume basically to screw over her villain dad and for kicks. Batman never liked her, but tried to train her for a while. During a Bat-period of ‘Distant myself from my allies, go it alone, yadda, yadda’ Spoiler came to Cassandra for training, where the two formed a luke warm friendship. Eventually, Spoiler became Robin when Tim retired for a bit and she got fired from that. Getting fired as Robin led too…

 

 **War Games:** Spoiler stole secret, never to be used plans of Batman designed to unite the various crimelords under the control of Matches Malone (Batman’s undercover I.D.) to impress the Batclan (with a brainy plan like that, is it any wonder she’s dead?). Somehow Spoiler enacted these plans without know who Matches was, or how to contact him. The arranged meeting erupted into a firefight, which spiraled into an even bigger riot as gangs fought each other for control. As a result, Spoiler was killed by Black Mask (which will be dealt with by another writer. And yes, Black Mask alone is responsible for Spoiler’s death) who then assumed control of Batman’s plan and thus Gotham’s gangs. During the riots, the Batclan were officially no longer urban myths. During the course of the gang war, Zeiss acted as Black Mask’s messenger, a small but vital role.

 

 **Batgirl’s killing:** Though it hasn’t been addressed it a while, Batman has known about Cass’ killing for some time. When last discussed, he firmly didn’t believe it, thinking her dedication was too much for a killer to have.

 

Hopefully, that’s answered any lingering questions anyone has. I know this is somewhat like the first issue, but I wanted to ease into things. Trust me when I say the next issue and all that follow will blaze a new path for our favorite Shiva stomper!

 

 

           

                      

 


	4. Chapter 4

**DC Revolutions Presents**

**Batgirl # 3**

**Matters of Circumstance Part 2**

**The Confessions of a Human Weapon**

_Gotham City, the Batcave._

           

            “…we need to talk.”

 

            Batman’s words seemed to almost take an almost surreal quality as Cassandra Cain stared at the large screen monitor of the Bat-computer, like some morning fog she knew was there but couldn’t touch. Her first (and only) kill was plastered across the Bat-computer in high definition graphics for all to see. Batman was only a few feet from the image. His body language was surprisingly neutral as he softly asked if she had indeed killed the man upon the screen.

 

            Cassandra Cain had faced the World’s deadliest martial artist in the form of Lady Shiva. She had fought and defeated crazed serial killers, the most sadistic thugs Gotham had spat out and disgusting rapists, all with no fear for herself whatsoever. True, she was scared that innocents might be harmed or killed because of her short comings, but that was it. She never feared for herself.

 

            Not now. Batman was determined to discover the truth, and that…that terrified her. Batgirl felt as though she finally knew, personally and intimately, why the criminal element of Gotham feared The Batman so deeply. Just one look told her that nothing was going to prevent him from learning the truth. Nightwing once said to her, that the truth frees people. Cassandra had to resist a bitter laugh at the time, as she felt nothing could be farther from the truth.

 

            “Cassandra, I need an answer.” Batgirl, hardly the detective other members of her adopted family were, failed to notice Batman’s tone was actually even and balanced. He addressed her patiently, calmly waiting for the answer he sought. But to Cassandra, his tone was accusing and barking, and worst of all, she deserved her.

 

            Cassandra looked Batman in the eyes, swearing to herself that she could lie to the man who lifted her out of the gutters, gave her a home, family, a means of redemption and stood as an unbreakable wall between her and Cain. Cassandra was certain she could lie to the man who’d given her all that and more, if only to prevent it all from being taken away.

 

            She tried to answer at first, but instead all Cassandra managed to do was litter the cave floor with the nice French Toast and bacon Alfred had made her for breakfast. Once that was expelled, dry heaves instantly followed. For a full two minutes, the only person to ever beat the deadly Shiva in combat couldn’t even stand, she felt so sick. She was on her hands and knee, nausea threatening to overtake her at even the thought of rising.

 

            “Cassandra…” Batman said again, this time in an ‘answer me’ tone of voice.

 

            Batgirl barely heard him over the pounding of her own heart. But she knew she couldn’t delay it any longer, lest she confirm his suspicions (naivety mixed with desperation was the thin strand of hope Cassandra held onto that Batman did not, in fact, know the horrible truth).

 

            So she looked her mentor in the eyes, and swore to herself that on behalf of the adopted family she wanted to keep and the good that she could do as Batgirl, she would lie to the man and simply say no. Language continued to be hard for her and perhaps always would be, but Cassandra was confident she could still say that much.

 

            “Yes…I killed that man,” the words flowed far more naturally than Cassandra ever would have guessed. When she realized what she actually had said, all the young girl could force herself to say before her mouth became dry as sand, was, “I…didn’t know…”

 

            Cassandra Cain had faced death and worse countless times. When her father upgraded her training with live ammunition. When evil men sought to prey on her body while she drifted through out the world, homeless and nameless. When she slipped past the National Guard who had sealed Gotham off from the rest of the world, a dark time her adopted city dubbed ‘No Man’s Land’. Thousands fled the city for safety. Cassandra was one of the few who actually fled into the city for sanctuary. And all these perils preceded her career as Batgirl. Danger was one of the few constants in Cassandra’s young life, and had been with her since her first breath in this world.

 

            But never once did she feel as helpless, trapped and terrified as she did now. Cassandra felt like a rat staring down the maw of a lion as Batman watched her, his suspicions now confirmed as fact. The fear and terror she felt only moments before was dwarfed in comparison to what she felt now.

 

            Cassandra saw the Dark Knight beginning to move, and held her breath as she waited for him to come down upon her like he would any other common criminal. She realized now this was how members of the underworld felt when confronted by her mentor. And what made it all a thousand times worse was that Cassandra knew she would deserve it. Batman, Nightwing, Alfred, people she loved and cherished like family would throw her into jail and then forget about her. Her life since assuming the mantel of Batgirl flashed before her eyes, a life she knew would be over before the hour was out.

 

            Batman clicked a button on his utility belt, and the image of her first kill disappeared from the screens. What Batman did next, Cassandra never would have guessed. The fearsome vigilante of Gotham walked up to her, knelt down, and extended his hand in assistance.

 

            Cassandra could always understand body language. What she often had the most trouble with was the ‘why’.

 

            At the moment, Batman’s body language was soft and kind. It was a side of him most, even his inner circle, had trouble seeing at times. Batman wasn’t heartless, far from it. And Cassandra always knew that. Some in the hero community even said that Batman cared too much. If that weren’t impossible in Cassandra’s opinion, she’d be inclined to agree. Batgirl saw it each and every time, his body betraying the words that came out of his mouth. Batman would give his all to protect the innocent and punish the guilty. Batgirl just didn’t know why the Batman would ever consider her the former and not the latter.

           

            Batgirl stood up slowly, her legs trembling. No matter how hard she tried, or how hard she knew Batman wanted her to, Cassandra couldn’t bring herself to look her mentor in the eyes. The closest she could get was his boots before the shame was too much.

 

            “I am sorry about that,” Batman said evenly, “we need to have a talk about your future, Cassandra. And we can’t do that if we keep secrets.”      

 

            To Cassandra, there was only one word she associated with her future. Her concern for it pushed through her raging fear, but sadly didn’t make it past the hurdle of her language problems, “Batgirl…can’t…mine!”

 

            “I have no intention of taking the Batgirl mantel from you either,” Batman stated, and Cassandra could see in his body language he wasn’t lying. He ushered her towards the center table of the Batcave, “but there are still things we need to address.”

 

            Cassandra sat across from Batman. She eyed her face mask longingly, where firmly wedged in Batman’s utility belt and still trembled despite herself. Once she’d taken her seat, Alfred, the perfect English Butler approached them with tea.

 

            “Care for some tea, Miss Cassandra?” he offered. Cassandra mumbled a yes, and gratefully accepted the cup, gulping down the soothing liquid like an alcoholic downing a shot. Cassandra couldn’t bring herself to look the kindly Butler in the eyes, but she did notice the anger in his form and how he never offered Batman any tea or anything else, the closest Alfred would ever come to snubbing the man he raised.

 

            Alfred politely excused himself, and once he was out of earshot, Batman began.

 

            “Cassandra, I need you to look me in the eyes.”

 

            Cassandra hesitated.

 

            “Cassandra, you’ve earned the right a long time ago. And I’m not having this discussion with the top of your head.” Batman informed her.

 

            Cassandra reluctantly lifted her head to face her mentor, but eye contact was short and skittish, like a guilty child anticipating some great punishment about to be handed down.

 

            “To start with Cassandra, let me say that my…new found understanding… of your past does not change our relationship,” Batman steepled his hands together, “you’re as welcome in the Batcave, in my home and in my life as you ever were.”

 

            Cassandra’s eyes widened, as if Batman had uttered some great blasphemy, “But…I’m…” Cassandra had to gulp heavily, and even then her voice was little more than a whisper, “…a killer. Murderer.”

 

            “No,” Batman’s response was quick and final, and he spoken with a strength of conviction Cassandra rarely saw in him outside combat, “you’ve killed once, under extenuating circumstances. Ever since then, your dedication to preserving life…well, it’s impressive. Your conviction for the sanctity of human life matches that of myself and precious few others I’ve met. Superman and Wonder Woman among them.”

 

            Most people would have given pause at that moment, not just with the flattering comparison, but also the fact that it was the Dark Knight delivering the compliment. Not Cassandra Cain, however.

 

            “Cain trained… me to be killer. What I…am,” she replied mournfully, “I…proved it.”

 

            Batman pressed a button on his belt, and the Batcomputer behind them came alive with images. Each and everyone one of them were of Cassandra before her eighth birthday. Some were of her and Cain sparring, either with just their hands or other weapons, including ballistic knives, nun-chucks and bo-staffs. Others were her of a child, battling skilled men twice her size.

 

            “For eight years, Cain trained you towards a singular goal. For eight years he abused you…”

 

            Cassandra winced. She knew her childhood was abnormal, but despite it all she still loved her father and never thought of her upbringing as all that bad. At least she didn’t so long as she didn’t dwell on it too much.

 

            “…raising you without any other constant human contact. No socialization, no interaction with possible role models, nothing that wasn’t for the express purpose of turning you into a human weapon. An object. Cain dehumanized you and then set you loose. That you’ve only taken one life is a testament to your character. You didn’t know what you were doing. In fact, it was impossible for you to know.”

 

            “You…still would have…stopped me,” Cassandra counted.

 

            Batman chose his words carefully. He knew he could not in good conscience hold Cassandra Cain responsible for her singular slaying. Not after he’d seen her childhood from videos copied from her father and trainer, no only a fool would believe she hadn’t crossed that line, however unwittingly. Or a man who wasn’t willing to maturely address anything that might lose him his potentially most skilled and trained operative to date, the Dark Detective reflected for a moment. And Batman knew he couldn’t take his sanction of Batgirl. She’d earned it a hundred times over and more importantly, it gave her life focus and meaning. But there were still important matters that he had to address now, matters that her near death experience made crystal clear could wait no longer.

 

            “You’re correct,” Batman answered, “I would have stopped you. I would have brought Cain in, and ensured that you received treatment to…correct his abuse.”

 

            Cassandra bristled when she heard Batman referring to ‘correcting’ her. It wasn’t that Cassandra thought she was normal, far from it. It was because no one was willing to teach her how to actually be normal. And if they weren’t willing to do that, the least they could do was not call attention to it.

 

            “But we can’t change the past. The best we can do is focus on the future.”

 

            “Batgirl…is my future,” Cassandra asserted.

 

            Cassandra could see how that answer disappointed her mentor, and hesitated.

 

            “Isn’t it?”

 

            A pause.

 

            “I don’t know Cassandra, is it?” asked Batman, “is that all you want from life? Just being Batgirl?”

 

            Cassandra stared at Batman intently, trying to divine the answer from his body language. Unfortunately, Batman was an expert at hiding and deception, even when it concerned the minor tics and tremors of his muscles that were like bold letters to Cassandra’s unique perception. It combat it was nigh impossible to hide, but in planned confrontations like this, the Dark Knight was a mystery even to her.

 

            “…no?”

 

            “Are you answering me honestly, or just saying what you think I want to hear?” demanded Batman, his tone final but gentle.

 

            Cassandra didn’t know much, but she knew better than to answer that question. His point made, Batman let it slide, and continued.

 

            “Tell me Cassandra, who is Batgirl?”

 

            Cassandra tilted her head to the side and looked at the Dark Knight curiously, “Batgirl is me. No…I am Batgirl.”

 

            “Is Tim Drake Robin, or is Robin Tim Drake?” Batman inquired.

 

            “Robin is Tim Drake.” She answered.

 

            “Is Nightwing Dick Grayson, or is Dick Grayson Nightwing?”

 

            “Nightwing is Dick Grayson.”

 

            “Is Oracle Barbara Gordon, or is Barbara Gordon Oracle?”

 

            “Oracle is Barbara Gordon.”

 

            Batman didn’t hide his body language the entire time, and with each question Cassandra began to feel more and more confusion and panic. She knew the truth, that her answers were right, but Batman felt they were wrong. It never occurred to her that Batman might be wrong, or that there might be some other answer.

 

            “I…don’t understand!” Cassandra finally protested.

 

            “And that’s the problem,” Batman concluded.

 

            “Am not stupid!” Cassandra protested quickly, almost before she realized her. It was often intimidating, working in the Batclan knowing as little as she did. They solved giant, long winding puzzles, deciphered the motives of the insane and could sometimes even solve crimes with little more than a glance. The only thing that prevented Cassandra from being overwhelmed with an inferiority complex was her own stubborn belief, supported by very little she felt not so deep down, that she was not in fact as stupid as she often felt.

 

            Batman produced a folder from behind his back and set it on the table, “I’m inclined to agree, for a host of reasons. Remember when you were captured on film by a Black Ops. Government agency? Oracle and I copied their records before we destroyed them. According to their expects, you’re a borderline meta-human even though you don’t possess the gene. They speculate that you have surgical implants or cybernetic alterations that account for your combined skills.”

 

            Cassandra gave Batman a concerned look, “…do I?”

 

            Batman smirked, however slightly, and the pride in his expression shored up Cassandra’s weakening self esteem, if only for the moment, “You’re a hundred percent human, Cassandra. Your combined speed, strength and mental coordination is simply off the charts. You’re a model of human excellence, in fact.”

 

            Batman slid the folder forward.

 

            “Read me the high lighted sections, please.”

 

            Cassandra looked at the manila folder in terror, and then back to Batman.

 

            “You are by no means stupid Cassandra, but I’m afraid you are very ignorant.”

 

            Cassandra wanted to shrivel up and die, right then and there. Ignorant was just another word for stupid, she thought, and she could never bring herself to disagree with the Batman.

 

            “And I mean ignorant, Cassandra,” Batman emphasized, “not stupid.”

 

            “No difference,” Cassandra protested weakly.

 

            “Ignorance is lack of knowledge. Stupidity is lack of ability to understand a subject,” Batman explained, “and no one on my team is stupid. But your ignorance worries me. What’s two plus two?”

 

            “I don’t…”

 

            “What year did Columbus sail to America?”

 

            “Who?”

 

            “What month is it?”

 

            “What’s a…”

 

            “What’s today’s date?”

 

            “Stop it!” Cassandra screamed so loudly the bats of the cave awoke and shrieked in protest. Cassandra stood up and took a few steps away from the table, clutching her fists they turned white, “just…stop…please?”

 

            Batman walked to his young ward and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, “I’m sorry, but I needed to make my point, Cassandra. There are certain matters regarding your life that need to change, and they can’t wait.”

 

            “I don’t want…to change,” Cassandra growled, “I’m fine…like I am.”

 

            “I don’t believe that for a second,” Batman shot back, “and because I care about you, I’m not inclined to give you a choice in the matter.”

 

            Cassandra reacted immediately. She swung her left wrist towards Batman’s neck where it collided with Batman’s left forearm. Batman, still operating on instinct, was reeling from surprise when Cassandra, balancing on just her right leg, kicked backwards with her other leg and connected solidly with Batman’s stomach, driving the air from his lungs. Spinning around gracefully, Cassandra let loose a series of punches aimed at vital or important areas, with one or two aimed at less vital parts of his body. To his credit, Batman blocked them all by the time Cassandra disengaged and flipped backwards.

 

            For a moment, the World’s Greatest Detective felt clueless. Cassandra Cain, despite being nurtured on violence from the cradle, was not a young woman prone to violence without provocation. She never attacked without cause, so why would she now…?

 

            Cassandra pulled the specially designed Kevlar weave mask down across her face. The young woman faced Batman now was not Cassandra Cain, but Batgirl.

 

            Batman was equally impressed and disappointed. He hadn’t even noticed Cassandra remove her mask from his belt. Few people on this planet could do that. But he was disappointed to see how much of her identity, her self esteem, she placed in the mask. It wasn’t that way with civilians during or on a mission, Batman knew and it served only to disappoint him more.

 

            “You told me…a long time ago you supported my choice… to use my identity…to fight crime,” Batgirl snapped at Batman as harshly as she could.

 

            “I’m not having this discussion with Batgirl,” Batman growled. He removed three gas pellets and lobbed them at Batgirl’s feet. Two exploded in a cloud of white smoke that completely obscured Batgirl’s vision. Batman leapt forward, and Batgirl dodged a round house kick aimed at her head by inches.

 

            Batgirl readied herself for a follow up attack when the third pellet, a flare, exploded in a bright burst of light. Only a split second, the young warrior was vulnerable while she shifted tactics to accommodate her blindness. Batman didn’t waste a second, his right hand swinging outwards, snatching the pointed ears of Cassandra’s mask and yanking it off her head.

 

            Cassandra stepped forward to retake her mask, this time with only the personal confidence of Cassandra Cain. One raised hand from Batman was all it took to stop her in her tracks.

 

            Batman took the mask in both hands and was about to tear it in two, to make a point, when he saw the silent horror on Cassandra’s face. It didn’t matter that Batman had dozens of replacement masks already prepared for her, to see her mentor destroying her mask would be a blow to her sense of self she might not be able to take, he realized. Batman relented, and once again tucked the mask into his belt.

 

            “I wish I had to wonder where you got the idea to hide behind a mask from your personal problems, but I don’t,” Batman sighed.

 

            Batman pulled his cowl back, so that Cassandra Cain was looking at the face of Bruce Wayne instead that of The Batman.

 

            To say it was disconcerting to Cassandra was an understatement. Yes, she knew Batman and Bruce Wayne were on and the same, and she had even worked with Batman when he was being Bruce Wayne. But never once had he engaged her Cassandra to Bruce Wayne. Somehow, seeing Batman as Bruce Wayne seemed wrong to her. Bruce Wayne was human. Batman was more than that. It was like seeing the Pope in an old, chewed up bath robe.

 

            “It’s only fair we both discuss this without masks. And you’re right. At the time I did support your decision not to actively engage in civilian life. I made a mistake, one I intend to correct.”

 

            “It’s still…my life!” Cassandra snapped defensively, “my life, my choice!”

 

            The two night vigilantes started one another down for long minutes. Cassandra believed that Batman would fire her, he’d have done it long ago. That he hadn’t done so already meant that he was only bluffing at best, and wouldn’t press the matter at worst.

 

            Batman, for his part, knew when the battle was lost. Cassandra seemingly didn’t want a normal life, even when made away of how ignorant she was. But what she wanted and what she deserved were two different things. And just because he couldn’t force her to try a normal life hardly meant he’d lost. No, they say that The Batman plans for everything. And in this instance, they were one hundred percent correct.

 

            “Alright,” Batman said finally, “I’ll respect your decision under one condition. I have a mission. Perform it to my specifications and we’ll never have this discussion again. I give you my word.”

 

            For Cassandra Cain, there was nothing to consider, “Name it.”

 

            “Spy on the Teen Titans for an entire weekend.”

 

            Next Issue: What do you think happens? Batgirl invades Titans Tower, but what she discovers there may be more than she can handle! Guest starring the Teen Titans (duh), Oracle and the Birds of Prey! Be here!

 

            Author's note: Those of you who have been following the series no doubt recognize this chapter. It's actually the first chapter that's the newest issue.

 

            As I have stated elsewhere, I write for group fanfiction sites. Batgirl was originally at a place called DC Revolutions and the continuity was just post War Games. Now it's at DC Infinity, and the continuity is OYL. The first issue, labeled 0, addresses Cass' altered continuity starting from issue 73 of her mainstream series. There will be some minor changes for the first three issues (I'll tell ya right now, ignore the Hawkman reference in the first issue) but in terms of substance nothing has changed. Sorry for the confusion, all.

 

                     

 

           

           

                      

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**DC Infinity Presents**

**Batgirl # 4**

**Matters of Circumstance Conclusion**

**Staring into the Shattered Mirror**

_Gotham City, Earlier_

Cassandra Cain examined herself in the mirror carefully. Unlike almost every other night for the last several years, she wasn’t wearing her ebony uniform as Batgirl, one of Batman’s staunchest allies and preparing to wage her nightly crusade against the underworld. No, tonight her costume, and subsequent mission, was radically different from any night she could remember.

 

To begin with, the expert martial artist was costumed in the dark purple and blue uniform of the internationally known and feared killer named Kasumi. It was a persona created for her by The Batman as a deadly hitwoman, and it came in handy when infiltrating certain criminal enterprises. Raised by and among some of the deadliest killers in the world, Cassandra could navigate their world with a casual ease. The most notable time Cassandra had employed the costume was when Batman had her infiltrate the Justice League Elite as a ‘redeemed killer’ to be his eyes and ears within the group. Though she regretted the lie to this day, Cassandra still found the costume to useful.

 

Her mission for tonight was simple enough. Spy on the young heroes known as the Teen Titans. Cassandra didn’t know why exactly Batman wanted her to spy on fellow heroes, especially a team that both Robins had proudly served on, and she wasn’t about to ask. First, she believed in her heart that Batman would never lead her wrong. Though HE was rarely forth coming with explanations, Batman’s actions never lacked for motive.

 

Second, simply too much was riding on this mission. The two night warriors, so alike that their disagreements could be counted on one hand, had come to an impasse regarding her lack of a personal life outside the cowl and the street. To Cassandra, anything less than her current life was considered a punishment. To Batman, her lack of a social life was extremely troubling. They came to a compromise though, as Batman could hardly force her to go outside and ‘have a good time’. The Dark Knight might be skilled in dozens upon dozens of fields, but he wasn’t that skilled.

The compromise was simple. If Cassandra completed this mission to his parameters, Batman swore that he’d never raise the issue again. And Batgirl trusted Batman’s word above all else.

 

Cass pushed those thoughts out of her mind as she did one last check of her equipment. Like before, she was carrying an Emperor’s Staff, a staff that, with a twist, pulled apart to produce two long thin blades. Strapped around her waist was a modified version of the utility belt the Batclan preferred to use. The usual detective tools were removed in favor of some light weight explosives, tear gas, knock-out poisons and other passive aggressive weapons. In addition, she carried several devises that would enable her to sidestep the advanced security system protecting Titan’s Tower.

 

Now properly armed, Cassandra stalked towards the hangar where the Batplane awaited, along with the Dark Detective. She took her seat behind the cockpit, and without a single word exchanged between them, the jet roared out of the hangar and into the night sky.

 

Even with the cutting edge technology within the ship, their destination was nearly an hour away as it lay on the other side of the country. The two crime fighters allowed silence to be the rule as they flew.

 

Though she had lived with silence her entire life, Cassandra found this to be one of the few times in recent memory that silence actually disturbed her, rather than comforted. A part of her wanted to say something, anything just to break the blanket of quiet that was cast over the plane, but thought the better of it.

 

After all, the Batman wasn’t one for ‘idle talk’, a term Cass had picked up from Oracle, not that she understood the term, not really. To Cassandra, words were to convey vital information that couldn’t be expressed otherwise. Why would someone casually waste something so important baffled the young woman. It reminded her of the expression Oracle used, of ‘burning money’.

 

A small voice in her head suggested that was one of the reasons why Batman wanted her to have a normal life, to understand things like that but the young woman silenced the voice instantly. If Batman wanted her to learn something, then it shouldn’t be too much to ask of him to teach her.

 

Still, the flight was long enough for Cassandra to shore up her self confidence. With an end goal within sight, Cassandra felt that there was no way that she could fail. No matter the opposition she faced, Cassandra silently vowed not to lose.

 

In her mind, Batman was simply testing her one final time. And she knew she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she let HIM down again.

 

&&&

 

A single blinking light was the only communication that passed between the two Bats as they approached Titan’s Tower. Cassandra checked the stored oxygen in her mask, and then pressed a single button. The floor beneath her seat slip open, and Cassandra dropped into the water below.

 

Even through her insulated suit, Cassandra could still feel, at least to some degree, the icy chill of the waters of San Francisco Bay. The currents were as strong as she was warned, but Cassandra Cain was nothing if not well conditioned. In addition, she only had to swim the distance of a city block to reach her target.

 

She swam the length with nearly inhuman precision, taking care not to strain herself too much while at the same time, in her minds eye, going slow enough so that anyone on monitor duty wouldn’t be inclined to notice her.

 

After ten minutes, Cassandra reached the outer most edge of the island. The island was designed for easy approach by those who called the ocean waters home, but that wasn’t to say security was lacking in any way. Cassandra could feel the sensor net sweep over more than once, but the circuitry within her uniform subtly mimicked the background energy patterns while suppressing her own body heat. Oracle once explained that the suit acted like a chameleon, blending into the background  

 

Cassandra waited several minutes, both to see if the alarms had been tripped (better safe than sorry) and to allow the water to drip off her uniform. It was difficult to be stealthy when you were leaving puddles of water everywhere.

 

Finally, enough time had passed. Cassandra was confident that the alarm hadn’t been raised due to the lack of teenage heroes patrolling the grounds or klaxon alarms, and so darted inside, and began her mission.

 

Unknown to the teenage crime fighter however, she didn't go unnoticed.

 

&&&

 

“…so I was thinking, why don't we take the spare T-jet out and swing by Hawaii?” asked Gar Logan. Known to the world as Beast Boy for his animal powers, he never let his green skin nor world wide popularity get in the way of having a good time. If anything, he seemed to slightly enjoy the extra attention his unusual complexion drew.

 

However, his best friend and brother in everything but blood, Victor Stone, was a little different. Following a lab accident, well over half his body was replaced with powerful cybernetics. As a result, more than half his body was composed of a gleaming silver metal several times stronger than titanium. Though Victor Stone would always be proud of the work he’d done with the Teen Titans, he still longed for the day when he could look in the mirror and see more than half his original face.

 

Still, his surgically altered form had its benefits. As he politely explained why using Teen Titan equipment to pick up women was a bad idea, he was able to keep an eye of Cassandra’s approach to the Tower in his mind’s eye. Cyborg had been forewarned to expect her, and agreed to the initial (and rather bizarre) request from the Dark Knight only because of his respect for another Titan, this one a founding member.

 

But that didn’t mean he’d just hand over free reign to the Tower. For her well being and for those of the kids entrusted to him, he fully intended to keep a watchful eye on her.

 

&&&

 

Cassandra crept through the high security tower like a wraith, unseen and undetected by nearly all.

 

Cassandra had seen and memorized the blue prints for the Tower, but that was hardly enough information to predict where the Titans might be at any given moment, even with the Titan profiles Batman had provided.

 

Ducking into a rarely used hallway, Cassandra put some thought to the matter. Late at night, what would eight super heroes, about her own age, do to pass the time?

 

Naturally, Batgirl's first thought was ‘training’, but she dismissed that idea instantly. One of the reasons Batman wasn’t quick to trust other heroes, because of their lax or non existent training, another reason was because Robin didn’t consider training all that fun.

 

After a few moments of silent contemplation, Cassandra realized that she honestly had no idea whatsoever what people her age might do to, let alone fellow heroes. The realization was like a stab in the heart, a stinging reminder of how different she really was.

 

Still, anyone who patrolled Gotham City at night held a tight reign on their emotions. Reminding herself that she had little desire to be normal, Cassandra decided to simply stalk about the tower and observe whomever she happened upon. It was hardly a plan worthy of Batman’s protégé, but some things couldn’t be helped.

 

&&&

 

“This…this is a travesty of justice,” Jamie Reyes couldn’t keep the disbelief from washing over his voice, “it’s almost abuse!”

 

“Jamie, calm down, it’s not that big a deal,” laughed Lorena Marquez.

 

“It is! It’s like never seeing the Mona Lisa, or Michelangelo’s David!” Jamie continued sifting through the entertainment center’s collection of DVDs.

 

“I’m sorry, could you say that again? I don’t speak geek,” teased Lorena.

 

“But you will!” Jamie held up the object of his search triumphantly, the box set collection of _Star Wars_ , “I can’t believe that you’ve never seen Star Wars! It’s a classic!”

 

“What, you’ve seen every ‘classic’ movie too?”

 

&&&

 

‘Kasumi’ listened to the two teenagers talk back and forth for some ten minutes as they watched their movie. Neither of them noticed her crouched behind the couch they were relaxing on, and Cassandra was in no hurry.

 

   The male, according to Batman’s briefings, was the new Blue Beetle. Bonded with an alien scarab and given strange new powers, and thrust into the ‘hero world’. From what she’d learned, it had been very hard on him. His identity was revealed to the world when he fought an alien during his High School graduation, and when his parents proved incapable of handling what had happened to their son, he’d had little choice but to leave. As it stood now, he was a ward of the Titans.

 

The female, Aquagirl, had her own fair shares of hardships. When San Diego was sunk by a supervillain, she was one of the few survivors mutated by the madman who’d caused the original tragedy. She survived. Her family didn’t. Taken in by Aquaman, the young woman helped her mentor keep the peace in the new ‘Sub Diego’.

 

Batman’s orders were explicit. Evaluate each and every Teen Titan. Determine their mental fitness and general well being, and report it all back to HIM.

 

After ten minutes of deliberation, unseen observation and just general instinct, the young crimefighter came to the only conclusion possible about the two. Despite all their hardships, everything they experienced, they were...normal. They were changed by their experiences... older in a way only someone who could read body language as a written language could see but also stronger. They carried their scars, were the stronger for it all the while remaining two normal teenagers. Hell, one had to be blind and deaf to miss the signals they were giving each other, regardless of their losses.

 

Cassandra knew she should have been happy for them, proud that fellow heroes had weathered such hardships so well. She wasn't.

 

Their strength, their general well being, caused some discomforting reflection for Cassandra. The lives of the two young heroes had some comparisons to Cassandra’s, after all, that of powerful emotional upheavals at a young age. But there was little doubt as to who handled the trauma better.

 

Once again the young woman banished the uncomfortable thoughts to the corner of her mind with only a little more difficulty than the first time. Deciding that’d she’d seen more than enough, the mistress of martial arts fled the room with equal parts speed and stealth.

 

&&&

 

At first glance, the Titans Beast Boy and Cyborg were exactly what ‘Kasumi’ expected to find in older heroes. The two were in the computer banks, updating the files on friends and enemies, coordinating file transfers with other super hero teams and the like. Professional, focused, dedicated. Just like HIM, though certainly not to the same degree.

 

But upon examination, Cass saw a different side to the young men. Beast Boy, despite a skin tone of grass green, was relaxed and easy going. Cyborg, despite being half metal, was just as well adjusted, though a little self conscious even after all these years.

 

For the first time since she began her mission, ‘Kasumi’ began to doubt herself. When she reviewed the files on the Teen Titans, she naturally assumed that the team members would have issues, or 'hang ups' as Nightwing called them, something that , emotionally, drastically separated them from regular people beyond just their amazing powers.

 

And as of yet, she'd found nothing. Cassandra griped her chest as a sharp pain stabbed through her heart. She told herself, unconvincingly, that the pain was simply a delayed reaction from the swim, and then Cassandra did what she always did in situations like this.

 

Glancing up at the security monitors, ‘Kasumi’ noted the positions of her remaining targets. Speedy, Superboy and Donna Troy were in the training room, while Raven was silently meditating in her room.

 

Then, like before, Cassandra fled from the heroes, both mentally and physically, with no one seemingly the wiser.

 

&&&

 

Donna Troy swung her fist, easily dispatching the practice robot that came her way, “Orders, Mia?”

 

Mia Dearden nodded, still struggling to comprehend the idea of giving orders to a heroine who had founded the original Teen Titans, years and years ago. Unfortunately, she still felt a little uncomfortable ordering about her vastly more powerful teammates.

 

“Umm, just keep hitting the things?”

 

“Oh yeah, intricate plan that,” teased Kon-El, otherwise known as Superboy.

 

Like twice before, Cassandra watched, this time from up in the monitor room and behind a sheet of specially reinforced glass.

 

From her vantage point, Cassandra, with her unique perception of the human body, could see everything. The three were what Nightwing had once described as ‘walking wounded’.

 

It was to be expected, after all. According to the files, Mia was infected with a blood disease that would eventually kill her (Cassandra couldn’t recall the disease’s name. She just didn’t see the information as important), Donna Troy, within the last year, had a miscarriage and sundered relationship with another hero, and Superboy himself had been resurrected from the dead itself. After experiencing that herself, Cassandra could relate to how it could alter your perspective

 

But despite it all, the three seems to draw strength and confidence just from being in proximity with one another. Their teamwork was excellent, and their skill was outstanding for superhumans.

 

Effective heroes socially interacting while training. A part of Batgirl found the idea disgusting, a stain against one of the greatest tools of preparation she and the Batclan had. Training was just a hair's breath away from real combat, in Cassandra's mind.

 

But another part of Cassandra's mind felt pure envy. To be so close to someone else so casually...

 

Unwittingly, Cassandra found herself reaching to the glass with her hand as her heart pounded and her breathing became shallow in anticipation of...what?

 

A thousand needles slashed through the young woman's heart as she realized she had no idea how to introduce herself, how to stand alongside other heroes her age as anything other than Batgirl.

 

Clenching her fist as tightly as humanly possible, Cassandra choked those thoughts down like a bitter pill, telling herself that it simply didn't matter. She had a mission, and the mission and only the mission mattered.

 

Repeating that mantra in her head as if her life depended upon it, ‘Kasumi’ removed herself from the observation area and headed towards her final target.

 

&&&

 

Of all the Teen Titans past and present, Raven had perhaps the worst relationship with her father, something Cassandra could relate to. But in terms of bad fathers, Cassandra also knew that Raven beat her hands down.

 

Raven’s father, after all, was Trigon the Terrible, an inter-dimensional demon who impregnated Raven’s mother so that he could eventually use his own daughter as a gateway into this reality via the powers his demon blood gave her. In order to prevent this from happening, Trigon’s enemies took his daughter and raised her in isolation to control her powers and to, eventually, stop her father.

 

Bred as a weapon by an evil father, raised in isolation and then push out into the world. Cassandra a stab of remorse. Were her mission (and life) different, she and Raven might be friends.

 

Unlike before, Cassandra opted to spy on her target from the ventilation shafts. Part of her reasoned it would act as a guard against any…temptation that might otherwise present itself, affecting the mission.

 

The mission and mission alone is all that matters, the young woman reminded herself again and again. It was as if a vice was clamped over her heart, and the only way Cassandra could think of to relieve the pressure was to focus on her objective and nothing else.

 

‘Kasumi’ was thankful that she found Raven still silently meditating, sitting mantis style in the center of her quarters. When a body was in motion, it spoke of all kinds of things to Cassandra Cain with but the slightest muscle movement. Still, a body was little more than a whisper.

 

Cassandra thought her mission complete, and was about to leave, when Raven looked up towards the ventilation grate that ‘Kasumi’ had been spying through, looked into the young vigilante's eyes, and said "Would you like to come in?"

 

Cassandra nearly jumped out of her skin, certain that she'd done nothing to betray her presence, yet discovered all the same.

 

"I only wish to talk," Raven assured her, "please come down."

 

Cassandra tried, and failed, to think of some possible alternative. She soon realized that no matter what she did, she needed to get out of the ventilation system now that she'd been compromised. Batman's orders were to observe and not be seen, and if caught Cassandra was to employ her best judgment.

 

Right now, it meant climbing out of the vent shaft, sharing a few words, while waiting for an opening to knock Raven unconscious and then escape undetected.

 

Cassandra slowly extracted herself from the vent and landed in the center of the room with silent grace. Raven didn't seem concerned that ‘Kasumi’ had placed herself between Raven and the door.

 

Cassandra found herself shocked at the Titan's total calm. Cassandra was dressed in the costume of an international hitwoman who'd just been discovered creeping through her team's headquarters. Most people would have at least put on guard.

 

But then, Raven was far from 'most people'.

 

"You must be ‘Batgirl. Few others could be so pure in emotion," Raven began, "Richard told me about you once, in passing."

 

Cassandra cocked her head to the side. Richard? She'd never heard that name before, did that mean that there was a leak within the Batclan?

 

"Nightwing," Raven clarified, sensing Cass' confusion, "he's very impressed about how far you've come, with your background. He asked if we would consider you for membership in the Titans."

 

Cassandra swallowed the lump in her throat, "How...did you know I was there?"

 

"I've sensed your emotions from the moment you entered the Tower, if you must know," explained Raven.

 

‘Kasumi’'s mind raced to process the information. Raven could sense emotions?! That wasn't in the briefings! But how could Batman have missed something like that, when his first partner was a founding member of this team? Nightwing and Raven served on the same team together, even!

 

That was impossible for HIM to make just an enormous mistake, unless...

 

"I've sensed your turmoil, your pain," Raven said calmly, "and I can tell you such things need not be. The Titans were founded as a family for youths like ourselves. No one, no matter how strong, can bear the burdens we do alone and especially at a young age."

 

Raven reached out her hand in one of the purest gestures of friendship Cassandra had ever seen.

 

"I would be honored if you joined us."

 

Cass’ legs felt as if they were made of rubber, and her heart pounded with such fierce strength it was as if it wished to burst from her chest. In all her life, Cassandra had never been in a situation like this. For a moment, ‘Kasumi’ was ready to grab Raven’s hand as if it were a great lifeline vital to her salvation. Until now, Cassandra Cain never realized how so very much she wanted friends, someone to talk to, to confide in like she had with Spoiler, to just not be alone anymore. This entire mission dredged up every last one of those emotions, and they burned worse than any fire.

 

Cassandra had begun to give into the temptation, to allow herself to fail the mission just for something resembling human contact, when Cassandra remembered something about the idea of ‘friends’.

 

Friends were expected to be open with one another. Heroes discarded their masks around one another, talk about their problems and were generally open with one another, especially the Teen Titans.

 

If she joined the Teen Titans, her teammates would insist on knowing her as Cassandra Cain, not Batgirl. Cassandra Cain, who couldn’t read. Cassandra Cain, deemed stupid by the smartest hero ever, Oracle. Cassandra Cain, easily the least of the Batclan. Cassandra Cain…just so incomplete as a human being compared to any of them.

 

“No…” whispered Cassandra as tears of shame streamed down her cheek. The idea of being so vulnerable threw her instincts into overdrive, and she reacted the only way someone trained by the world’s greatest assassin and Batman rationally could.  

 

"No!"

 

&&&

 

Having given Raven the heads up that ‘Kasumi’ was heading her way, Cyborg had begun to relax. He honestly had no clue why Batman had essentially asked that Batgirl be allowed to spy on the team. Victor agreed only out of deference to one of the world's greatest heroes, and in the hope that the young woman would be motivated to join their ranks. He’d seen the file Nightwing compiled, and was suitably impressed. She’d make a fine Titan.

 

However, the explosion that came from Raven’s room extinguished that idea rather brutally. Alarms sounded automatically, and with his mind’s eye Cyborg quickly checked on Raven. The sensors indicated she was still alive, but because they were installed with general privacy in mind, told him nothing else.

 

 _Something to change in the future_ , Victor Stone reflected as he activated the Tower coms., “Attention Titans. We have an intruder in the Tower. Approach with extreme caution and subdue."

 

&&&

 

Though her eyes were blurred with tears and her heart burned with every step, Cassandra's instincts remained razor sharp, remembering what halls led to where. With security on lock down, the only way out was through the front door.

 

The first two obstacles presented themselves not thirty feet from Raven's room. Superboy and Blue Beetle.

 

Experience told ‘Kasumi’ that Superboy would come at her first, and she was right. Though the young man had speed that enabled him to break the sound barrier, it wasn't something he could easily employ without turning an enemy into a blood stain.

 

So when the young clone shot forward with a right hook, Cass dodged it by bending backwards nearly ninety degrees. As she came up, the young woman removed two explosives from her belt, and slapped them onto the sides of the young hero's head. A specially putty held the explosives in place, and Cassandra somersaulted backwards as she detonated the bombs.

 

The Boy of Steel's head easily without the explosion without so much as a scratch. But like half of his genetic father, Superman, Kon-El possessed super senses, chief among them super hearing. At the moment, his ears were pounding a symphony of pure agony and his eyes radiated pain. With one foe blind and deaf, ‘Kasumi’ turned to her next foe, Blue Beetle.

 

"Hold it right there!" shouted the rookie hero, his right arm now in the shape of a hand cannon, "that trick won't work with me!"

 

Cassandra saw right through the young man's bravo. And like always, action was faster than reaction.

 

‘Kasumi’ leapt over Beetle's head faster than he could follow, and when she landed right behind him, she kicked the insect themed hero in the back of the knee.

 

Blue Beetle stumbled, and would have fallen on his ass had two hands not caught him. But before he could right himself, those two hands harshly shoved him into Superboy.

 

"Think you can take me just 'cause I can't see, huh?" roared Superboy, though temporarily blind and deaf, he was still damn powerful. The young clone lashed out with a glancing blow that sent Jamie's head reeling.

 

"Conner, wait!" Blue Beetle pleaded, not yet realizing his teammate couldn't hear him. When Superboy pulled his fist back, Jamie reacted instinctively, his beetle armor firing an energy bolt from his hand. Unfortunately, it also told the Boy of Steel exactly where his ‘enemy’ was.

 

"Stronger than you looked, huh?" Superboy blasted through the air, into Blue Beetle and through more than a few walls. By the time Superboy realized his mistake, ‘Kasumi’ would be far, far away.

 

&&&

 

When Speedy saw the intruder come at her from down the hall, she moved with practiced grace. Removing arrow after arrow from her quiver, she unleashed a hail of, if not deadly, then incredibly dangerous weapons towards her target…

 

…only to watch the mystery woman catch each several without breaking a sweat, dodge the rest all the while never breaking stride. ‘Kasumi’ leapt at Mia feet first, coiled her legs back and then lashed outwards like a coiled snake. The impact was so great that the archer found herself thrown backwards where her back slammed into the wall.

 

“Damn it…” Mia saw past the stars in her vision just to see her foe throw the arrows she’d caught. Squeezing her eyes shut, Mia’s breath frozen in anticipation of a sudden and painful death as she heard the –thunk!-, -thunk!-, -thunk!- of the arrows embedding themselves into something.

 

A second later, realizing she wasn’t dead, Speedy opened her eyes and saw that she was merely pinned to the wall by both her costume and her own arrows.

 

“Oh, Ollie’s gonna have a field day with this…” sighed the young archer.

 

&&&

 

“I’m think we’re going too easy on these kids if one babe in purple can get past them,” Beast Boy remarked to Donna Troy as the duo moved to intercept the intruder.

 

“Or she’s better than she looks,” Donna Troy observed, "be careful."

 

“But not good enough!” boasted Beast Boy. His body changed into that of a lion, and lunged for Cassandra.

 

Though it was impossible for her to predict what animal Beast Boy would change into, ‘Kasumi’ remembered that it was only Beast Boy’s body that changed shapes, not his mind. Slamming the flattened palm of her fist into Beast Boy’s lion face was enough to buy her some breathing room, and a snap kick rendered him unconscious. Had he the fierceness of an animal or their ability to casually ignore pain, Cassandra knew the battle would have ended very differently.

 

Donna Troy stood her ground for a moment, analyzing the situation. With most of her team defeated, she knew better than to take her foe lightly. If nothing else, she needed more information about her mysterious foe before she engaged.

 

“What do you want? Why are you here?” Donna demanded.

 

“Why am…I here?” Cassandra choked out, unable to keep the pain from her voice. Her left hand went smoothly into her belt and removed a small disk that was little bigger than quarter, “I…wish I knew.”

 

Donna Troy hesitated for a moment, hearing the voice of a pained young woman underneath the costume of a deadly killer. Life as a Titan had taught her many things, most especially that things were rarely as they seemed. Something in Donna’s mind told her that this young woman hated being here, what she was (being forced into?) doing. Perhaps if she extended an olive branch instead of violence, like her sisters had taught her…?

 

Cassandra saw the offer of assistance coming, and used that as her opening. She flung the small disk into the Amazon’s mouth, where it exploded and released a thick, choking black mist.

 

Donna fell to her knees gagging, and 'Kasumi' sped past and out the main doors of the Tower.

 

Cassandra was ready to believe that she was home free when she sensed someone approaching behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Aquagirl sprinting towards her with a look of determination in her eyes.

 

Though some would callously disregard Aquagirl as a danger im comparison to other Titans, Batgirl wasn't among them. As a matter of fact, she considered Aquagirl one of the most dangerous members of the team.

 

The incredible ocean pressures and constant water resistance that Lorena lived with nearly every day meant that she was faster, stronger, and had superior senses compared to those who lived on the surface, no matter how much or how hard they trained. In practice, it meant that no matter how fast she was or how strong, Aquagirl was better. Already Cassandra could sense her foe closing in on her, crossing the distance of three feet for every one Cass made.

 

Removing several smoke bombs and flares from her belt, Cass threw them over her shoulder, hoping to slow her foe down. Unfortunately, Aquagirl’s reflexes were as enhanced as the rest of her body. She clamped her eyes shut and bulled through the smoke and flares while her ears followed Cassandra’s footfalls. The under water heroine barely slowed down.

 

“You’re not getting away that easy, bitch!”

 

Cassandra had one last, desperate plan. Only a few feet from the water, she dove forward with every last ounce of energy. As expected, Lorena tackled her in midair, and the two crashed with the water with a large splash.

 

“Dumb move, bimbo,” Aquagirl had her hand wrapped around Cassandra’s throat. The two of them were just below the water, and Cassandra knew that was exactly where her foe would keep them, “I don’t think you can fight down here half as well as me.”

 

Cassandra could say nothing, but it was just as well. She could plainly see that Aquagirl was beyond talking. As far as the young woman was concerned, Cass had willfully hurt her friends, and thus, was as far beyond words as a heroine could be.

 

Luckily, Cass had one remaining trick up her sleeve.

 

All the suits Batman had given his allies carried a mild taser charge, as a precaution. Normally, it was a one shot weapon designed to disable the average thug who happened to be lucky enough to pin or immobilize a vigilante. But Cassandra, recognizing the possibility that she might have to fight Aquagirl in the water, asked Batman to incorporate the same weapon into her suit, and to add a much bigger battery.

 

With her right hand, Cassandra gripped the wrist that led to the hand around her throat and applied pressure to several key points. Then, with her left hand, she activated the suit taser.

 

Cass heard the crackle of the taser charge, and watched the young woman’s body tensed and then went limp. It was only because Cassandra was using pressure points that Aquagirl’s fist didn’t clench tight from the electrical jolt, snapping her neck. It was a risk, but it would be a cold day in hell before Batgirl doubted her ability to handle those.

 

Aquagirl went limp in the water, and after sparing a moment to confirm that the Titan was still breathing, (Cass still hadn’t gotten used to the unusual biology’s of meta-humans. The unconscious Titan looked too much like a freshly drowned corpse for her tastes) Cassandra made good on her escape.

 

For most people, fighting their way past six superheroes was more than enough for one night. But the Cassandra hardened her heart for one last battle, perhaps the most important one of all.

 

&&&

 

“…ar me, Lorena?” Aquagirl awoke to see Cyborg and Raven looking down at her, worry plastered on their faces.

 

“Been better,” the teen hero croaked. She sat up gingerly, Cyborg gently helping her, “guess…whoever that was got away, huh?”

 

“Don’t concern yourself with it," Raven assured her, "the matter is in capable hands. Though I pity the man who started this all..."

 

&&&

 

Observing the blinking light on his consul, Batman surmised, with a heavy heart, that Cassandra had finished her mission and was now dealing with the consequences. It didn’t escape his notice that several of the tracers on the suit were offline, while the remaining few were actually the most accurate ones she possessed.

 

Batman knew it would come to this, though, so he saw little point in wasting time. He guided the Batplane towards the signal (a darkened alley that perhaps defined ‘out of sight’), activated the plane’s hover capabilities, and repelled to the ground silently.

 

The alley felt like a million others the Dark Detective had seen in his time, and he knew that was the trick. One of the first thing The Batman had taught his protégés was that when you wanted to lower someone’s guard, you lured or confronted them, depending on the situation, into familiar surroundings. This puts the target at ease, giving them a false sense of control and security.

 

The stench of the trash bins, the sounds of rats scurrying for their meal, puddles of water that stank of mildew. The Batman had fought, interrogated and hid in alleys for so much of his career, they were almost a home away from home. Here was his element. Here the Detective was in control, no matter the threat. And here, an attack was waiting.

 

Batman looked around carefully, memorizing every detail, every little nuance of the alley before he took a single step. He scanned the area with his eyes, expecting to see nothing yet taking in everything. His opponent was too well trained, and the Dark Knight knew that no matter how well skilled he was, not even he could detect his quarry, but one always had to try. Finally, he threw down the gauntlet.

 

"Batgirl? Report."

 

As expected, several smoke bombs detonated at once, casting a thick blanket of smoke over the alley. It was impossible to see anything, but Batman resisted the temptation to switch the lenses in his mask to night vision or infred. His decision was rewarded as less than ten seconds later, as several flash bombs exploded and would have blinded him were it not for the protection provided by his regular lenses.

 

"No more trips to Kansas." growled a voice. Three throwing stars shirled through the air, and Batman barely sidestepped them before they embedded themselves in painful positions in his anatomy, "no trips!"

 

There was no need for Batman to ask what Cassandra was referring to. Sometime back, she'd developed a seeming infatuation with the teen hero Superboy. Like most teenage girls, Cassandra had snuck away from home, or Gotham in this instance, to visit the young man. At the time, Batman had seen it as a distraction from her duties and responsibilities to both himself and Gotham, and so he ordered the 'relationship' (he knew now it was being kind to even call it a casual friendship) terminated immediately. At the time, Batman thought he was acting within his rights as a commander and de-facto father.

 

Only upon recent reflection did the Dark Hero realize what Cassandra had really been doing, reaching out to someone, just looking for a friend her own age. And no father had the right to stop that.

 

“I’m not perfect,” answered Batman evenly, “and one of my greatest mistakes was allowing you to think I was.”

 

“No identity...you complimented!”

 

Batman grimaced mentally. When government agents had recorded Cassandra in action without her costume, Cassandra was confronted with the possibility of never having a true secret identity, and seemed unconcerned. Batman had affirmed her choice at the time, something he deeply regretted now.

 

"I did. And it was a terrible mistake on my part," Batman confessed, "I'd prefer to have this conversation face to face, Cassandra."

 

Batman braced himself for what was to happen next. Words would never been enough to satisfy Batgirl's rage. Raised with the closed fist and martial arts, her fist instinct when hurt would always be to respond with violence, no matter how far she'd travel in life.

 

And Cassandra Cain did not disappoint.

 

Lunging from the smoke like a feral animal, Cassandra unleashed a flurry of punches at her mentor, and to her surprise, more than a few actually connected. True, Batman intercepted a fair share it she could see how he allowed punches and blows to slip past his defenses.

 

Seeing this, seeing the guilt in his face, Cassandra ceased her attack and stepped back, casting an angry glare at the man she respected above all others. She didn't want this, his acceptance of her accusations. Her blood boiling, she wanted nothing more than a true, no holds bar battle, both physical and emotional. She knew she was right, she just didn't want him to accept his guilt so easily. She wanted his pain and blood, a true fight, not this sham of a conflict.

 

Batman saw how Cass' entire body shook in anger. For one someone disciplined enough to climb to the height of greatest martial artist in the world, to be showing such visible emotion, it was an obvious testament to just how infuriated she really was.

 

"I knew what I asked you tonight would be painful," explained Batman, "but this is neither the time nor the place to discuss it. We should return to Gotham..."

 

Cassandra carefully removed her helmet, so that she could look The Batman face to face, so that he could see her tear streaked face. Her eyes were red, almost blood shot yet somehow retained an incredible fierceness of a wounded lioness.

 

 _If looks could kill_ , Batman mused for a moment. In truth, he’d expected everything that had happened up until now. He knew that Cassandra, confronted with her demons, would want to return the pain in kind, rather than reflect on the matter.

 

But what happened next no one could have predicted.

 

Cassandra pulled back her hands and leapt forward; like she’d done when she was only eight years old, her hand aimed at the Dark Knight’s throat in what would be a painfully fatal attack.

 

For a split second, the Dark Detective, scourge of the underworld and one of the most respected heroes in history, was so dumb founded that he couldn’t even move. But only a split second.

 

Instincts took over, and Batman grabbed Cassandra’s wrists before her attack came anywhere near his throat, mainly because she executed the attack with all the grace and speed of a drunken rhino. Anyone with the slightest physical ability could have blocked the attack without breaking stride. Batman felt a tinge of guilt for ever thinking that Cassandra would actually attack him with lethal intent as he caught her other arm just as easily.

 

The attack was simply a gesture on Cass’ part, in her native tongue. It was the crudest, most vile, disgusting and insulting thing she could think to ‘say’.

 

It had also taken every last once of her strength, both physical and emotional. Cassandra collapsed in Batman's arms, crying like a long lost child who'd just found her father.

 

"I'm sorry...I....I..." Cassandra tried her best to explain her actions, to justify what she'd just done, but it between her poor language skills and choking sobs, all was lost.

 

Batman wrapped his arms around the weeping girl, embracing her as a father should, for perhaps the first time, "I know Cassandra. And believe me, I understand. I will make things better, I promise you."

 

&&&

 

_Later_

After his ward had calmed down enough to travel, the Dark Knight made a bee line towards the home of Oracle. Barbara had shot Batman a glare strong enough to melt steel when he explained what had occurred, but she bit her tongue, instead choosing to coax Cassandra towards one of her guest rooms for a talk.  

 

 _That had been nearly twenty minutes ago_ , Batman thought to himself, _and she still hadn’t returned. Certainly not a good sign_.

 

Regardless, he waited patiently in Oracle’s den. Rather, his son Dick’s and Barbra’s den, Bruce Wayne reminded himself. Barbara had been his daughter in law for months, and Batman knew he was heading towards his first real family clash with her.

 

“Bruce.”

 

As Oracle wheeled herself into the room, Batman found himself almost wishing for the Joker, Two-Face or Harley Quinn even, to suddenly appear. Anything to avoid what he knew was to come…

 

“I've been talking with Cassandra. Care to explain?”

 

With Oracle only a few inches away with a scowl of utter contempt, Batman suddenly felt as if he were being interrogated and almost, _almost_ shifted into a defensive mind-set before reminding himself that he was talking to his daughter in law, and most especially, Cassandra’s surrogate mother, aunt and big sister figure all in one. She of all people had a right to be angry. Barbra cared as much for the young woman as he did, only she was far more willing to both admit and demonstrate it, Bruce reflected with no small amount of guilt.

 

“I assigned Batgirl to spy on the Titans. Obviously, intelligence gathering wasn’t the real purpose of the mission, rather…”

 

Not surprisingly, the slap Batman received stung worse than some of the punches he’d received from street thugs in his career. The Dark Knight wasn’t shocked that Oracle struck him at all, in fact. Batman held no illusions about just how angry she was. He caught her wrist just as she was about to strike him again.

 

“We have more important things to do than fight,” Batman intoned.

 

“You’d never hit a woman in a wheelchair,” Oracle snapped.

 

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you hide behind your gender or disability,” quipped Batman.

 

“Well, this is the first time I’ve seen you emotionally destroy an innocent young girl,” Barbra answered back, “this is a night of ugly firsts for us all, I suppose.”

"The idea for the mission would be for Cassandra to realize her personal social short comings, that's all," explained Batman, "I'd hoped that she would have tried to join. In the worst case scenario, I thought she'd simply be upset and be more amendable to starting an outside life. I…didn't expect her reaction to be this…explosive."

"She has over sixteen years to make up for Bruce," snapped Oracle, "throw all that in her face in one single night and we're lucky she hasn't run away!"

"We both know she wouldn't do that."

"…"

As cold as Batman could be at times, Barbra knew that, in this instance, he was simply stating fact. And the cold hard fact was that, outside of the Bat-clan, Cassandra had no one else she could turn to.

"…why didn't you tell me what you were planning?" Barbra finally asked, her righteous anger having faded now.

"Because I didn't want her to blame you too," Batman said simply.

"What now?" interrupted a new voice.

The two senior heroes glanced towards the doorway, where Cassandra stood just before the threshold, her face concealed in shadow.

"You won, Batman," Cassandra repeated, her tone carefully controlled, "so…what now?"

"Now…now you get a life that doesn't rotate around vigilantism. You start a real life, Cassandra."

Even though they couldn't see her face, both her surrogate parents felt as if they could feel apprehension that bordered on terror emulating from her. But only for a moment.

"Good," Cassandra snapped, stepping into the light to glare at Batman. She took a deep, calming breath and began the lines she rehearsed in her head, "it's about time…I got something back after all I've given you."

The End.

Next Issue: Cassandra Cain faces her biggest challenge yet. A real life! But to face such a huge hurdle, Batman knows his young ward will need help. Who will he call upon? And how will Cass make the adjustment?

Additional notes for readers: The above team of Titans, plus the fact Oracle is married to Nightwing, comes from DC Infinity group fanfiction site. Batgirl will always draw it's continuity from the site, though I will do my best to explain it in context. So Superboy being alive, Mia leading the Titans etc. all from there.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**DC Infinity Presents**

**Batgirl # 5**

**All in a Lifetime's Work**

**Part1**

_Gotham City_

Nearly a dozen men loitered around the entrance to the Gotham Gardens tenement, but no one dared challenge them. They were members of the Hispanic gang Vatos Locos, and for all intents and purposes, they might as well have been the landlords of the building. In return for looking the other way, residents were allowed to live in relative peace.

 

Today though, the gang members were especially paranoid. They had vital business to conduct, business that could only be conducted at night, and that was the problem.

 

Hell, in Gotham, it was always a problem, because the night belonged to **_The Bats_**.

 

The criminal dozen went about their business, discussing recent events in spanish while every now and then, a member would politely trail off, declaring they were heading for home. Each and every one of them carried a backpack, gym bag or a paper bag large enough for groceries. Though the young men tried to act casually, they scanned the shadows with their eyes, almost certain they could feel a certain Dark Knight's eyes cast upon them.

 

And though Batman was indeed a man of considerable myth, the gang members of Vatos Locos weren't wrong in this instance.

 

One block away, standing atop an adjacent apartment building roof and peering through special binoculars that would be employed by Navy Seals within the next year, were Batman and Batgirl. Their equipment contained directional microphones that allowed the duo to listen in as if they were standing next to the young men, and contained a live digital feed to the Batcave that scanned and documented the men's faces for later reference.

 

Cassandra saw one man step away, and gave him a casual one over.

 

“Him.”

 

“Him?” Batman repeated.

 

“Do I question your detective skills?” snapped Cassandra, too quickly and too smoothly to be anything but a prepared statement. But rather than take the bait, Batman simply nodded in acknowledgment, and went back to watching the gang. Several minutes passed, and Cassandra pointed out another, and then another.

 

“Hmm, clever,” Batman returned the binoculars to his belt, Cassandra did likewise.

 

“Why aren't we...following one?” Cassandra demanded, her tone uncommonly accusing.

 

“Last night, I broke into their head quarters and copied down their cell phone numbers,” Batman explained, “in addition, I planted a tracer in the shoes of several men I suspected would be the mules. Two of my choices were correct. I was simply waiting to see how many people were chosen to carry the payment.”

 

Batgirl didn’t respond, and the Dark Knight took that as a good sign.

 

Over the course of an hour, the group went their separate ways. Cassandra, with her ability to read body language like bold font, picked out the men Batman was looking for from the decoys meant to distract him and any police, or rival gangs who might decide to follow. There were five in all, and Cassandra routed out each and every one.

 

“I suspect I know where they’re going, so now is as good as time as any to go over your new arrangement,” Batman put the binoculars away and turned to Cassandra.

 

“Arrangement?” Cassandra looked at her mentor curiously.

 

“To be precise, your future patrols are going to be limited to North Gotham for the foreseeable future,” Batman explained, "this is not up for debate."

 

“Why?”

 

“Your arrangements will be changing,” answered Batman curtly, “you won't have the time to cover the entire city effectively. But with Nightwing covering South Gotham, there shouldn't be any problems.”

 

“And if I leave...the north end?”

 

Batman could almost smell the trap, “I understand that investigations don't respect borders. I'll respect your judgment.”

 

“Hmph,” Cassandra snorted, denied a possible avenue of rebellion.

 

With Batgirl pacified, if only for the moment, the Dark Knight removed his grappling hook and fired it towards a nearby building. Within seconds he was swinging through the Gotham skyline.

 

Batgirl hesitated for a brief moment, resentful of how she was forced to mimic her mentor if she wanted to follow him. Before she secretly enjoyed emulating him, if not in action then in spirit, but Cassandra found herself instinctively disliking it now, as if it were a sign that she was simply a shadow of the man himself.

 

Still, the situation dictated a certain method of travel. Following with her grapple, the two Bats traveled in silence. With practiced skill and grace, the two didn’t make a single sound as they traveled through Gotham. Cassandra spared a glance down every now and then, at what was to be her new territory.

 

Asians, African Americans and Hispanics (that’s what the TV called the people below her, Cassandra remembered. She honestly didn’t know what the differences between them were beyond the physical), all of whom according to Batman and Oracle had their own gangs along with the usual organized crime that plagued Gotham endlessly.

 

Eventually, the nocturnal duo’s travels came to a conclusion atop a dockside warehouse. One glance down the sky light informed them there were a half dozen well dressed men, and three of the five gang members Cassandra had deduced were mules.

 

“This is about an arms shipment,” Batman explained, “Vatos Locos has to compete with at least a half dozen gangs in Gotham just to hold onto the territory they already have. To do that, they need arms, and a steady supply. I suspect that they broke up the payment to insure that even if one of them were caught, they could still afford some arms.”

 

Batgirl processed the information silently. There was no real need for words now, given how many times the two of them had worked together on raids, at least as far as Batgirl was concerned.

 

The Batman, however, knew better. He knew Cassandra resented how he’d painfully tricked her into accepting a normal life. She would follow his lead, he knew, but she wouldn’t be happy about it and wanted her own pound of flesh along the way.

 

Normally Batman would never allow such a thing on a mission, but recognized that if he confronted her about it now, it would only make matters worse. Batman reminded himself that if he pushed her too hard, Batgirl would never be emotionally independent from him. That in many ways, her anger and resentment towards him was good for her, given how she used to hold him up to a pedestal and all but worship him.

 

So Batman ceded complete control of this raid, something he was loathe to do, and decided instead to rely on his faith in his young charge. All things considered, the Dark Knight reflected, she’d already earned it a dozen times over.

 

The last two mules arrived, and the Bats jumped into action. Smashing through the sky light, Batman repelled down a rip cord towards the ring leaders while Batgirl addressed the rabble.

 

Batman grabbed a man in a fine business suit who’d just finished talking to a youth in torn and ragged clothes, and slammed their heads together. They knew nothing he din’t already know, so it wasn’t as if he needed them conscious.

 

He glanced over his shoulder, to where Batgirl was still dealing with her opponents.

 

To the untrained eye, the fight would seem to be choreographed. With only four men left, Batgirl would punch one, then fluidly duck under the counter attack. The men would charge (Batman didn’t doubt that Cassandra had disarmed them all already), and she would sidestep them into one another. To anyone else, it looked like slapstick comedy. To Batman, it was a confusing change from the norm.

 

“Batgirl, do you need assistance?”

 

Cassandra Cain, at least from appearances, jumped when she heard the voice. Reaching into her utility belt, she removed a single batarange and sent it hurtling towards Batman, and then preceded to dispatch the four men in three moves.

 

Batman knew instantly he could have avoided or caught the weapon, but he also knew that wasn’t what Cassandra wanted, not exactly. So he brought up his left wrist to deflect the weapon. The pain the impact caused was nothing compared to what Batman was used to dealing with, but he allowed himself to feel the stinging pain from his wrist all the same.

 

“You...startled me,” Cassandra's lie was amazingly unconvincing, but again, Batman let the matter slide. He knew full well that he was the reason, the true source of Batgirl's current un-professionalism at the moment, and if he chastised her, the situation would only grow worse.

 

Besides, having completed the raid, the night was for all intents and purposes over. So Batman felt secure in loosening his 'zero tolerance' policy towards unchecked emotions in the field, just this once.

 

“It won't happen again,” Batman answered in a neutral tone.

 

For a moment, Batgirl felt a tinge of guilt about hurting her mentor, however slightly. She tried to remind herself why she was angry at him, why he deserved the pain (however slight it was), but having actually succeeded in hurting him, those justifications seemed hollow now.

 

&&&

 

The two stood silent guard for several minutes, the silence thick tension. Finally, the wail of police sirens ended the silent stand off between the two.

 

Silently beckoning for Batgirl to follow him, the two slipped out a back door as the first patrol car skidded to at stop at the front of the warehouse. They kept to the shadows for several blocks, until Batman came upon a manhole cover in one of the countless back alleys of Gotham. Removing the cover, he motioned for Cassandra to enter. Once she was down the ladder, Batman followed, replacing the manhole cover as carefully as possible. It wouldn't due for someone to trip over it and discover what he'd down here, after all.

 

“Activate your tracer,” ordered Batman.

 

Cassandra looked at the Dark Knight curiously, but removed her tracer devise from her belt and flipped it on all the same. To her surprise, a bright red arrow came up on the screen.

 

“I took the liberty of attuning your new cave to your tracers while you adjust to your new living arrangements,” Batman explained as he walked past Cassandra, “however, I would suggest you make yourself familial with the local sewer system.”

 

Following the signal (and not Batman, thank you very much), the two nocturnal warriors eventually came across a heavy metal gate. Batman pressed his hand against a seemingly random brick, and with a hiss the steel gate rose.

 

Stepping through, Batman then depressed several more bricks in the side wall, and with a rumble it slide aside to reveal a sleek, metal staircase.

 

“What...was this place?” Cassandra asked as they stepped though. In the past, it had been her experience that Batman had an amazing ability to find abandoned hide-aways and revamp them for use in his...their crusade.

 

“I called in a few favors from the metahuman community, actually,” answered Batman, “Sand and Geo-Force helped excavate and buttress the cave, while Flash and Mr. Terrific helped install the technology.”

 

Cassandra took a look around at her new cave. Thankfully, it was built much in the same way as her other ones had, with a giant computer pressed against the far wall, a row of motor cycles and in its own corner, some sixteen feet wide with weight benches, wooden dummies, tagets and other practice and workout tools.

 

Behind the workout area, behind a door of bullet proof glass, Cassandra could see a store room of bataranges, spare costumes, gas pellets, grappling hooks and other tools of her crusade.

 

Visually, the cave reminded Cass of all the ones she’d had in the past. Emotionally…she wasn’t sure what she felt. Ever since she encountered the Teen Titans, Cassandra questioned almost everything about her life that wasn’t combat. Were homes supposed to be so easily, so casually replaced?

 

A door slip open behind the computer, and Batgirl tensed as an Asian woman, in her late thirties and casually dressed, stepped into the room. Though she hardly looked like much of a threat, dressed in casual clothes and wearing a smile on her face that was expressed with her entire body. But her body had the undertones of an experienced warrior, especially when Cassandra saw the respect with which she carried a katana in one hand.

 

“Bruce,” the woman nodded to Batman, “And you must be Cassandra.”

 

“Yes!” Cassandra shouted instantly, unsure of how to greet this woman. Was she supposed to greet her as an equal, superior, or fellow warrior?

 

“My name is Tatsu Yamashiro, and you'll be living with me for the foreseeable future,” the woman gently explained. She held up the sword, “would you take this upstairs, please? I'll be up in a moment to better introduce myself, I just need a moment alone with Bruce.”

 

“Why...did you bring it...down?”

 

Tatsu smiled coyly, “So that you would take it up. I'll be up in a moment, promise.”

 

Hesitant, Batgirl spared a fleeting glance towards the Dark Detective.

 

“It's alright,” stated Batman.

 

“Didn't ask!” Cass snarled as she snatched the sword out of Tatsu's hands and stalked off.

 

The two waited a moment until they were confident that Cassandra had indeed, left. They both knew the young woman wanted to eavesdrop on the conversation, but were fairly confident that she knew better than to try that on two veteran heroes.

 

“Children,” Tatsu observed in an amused tone.

 

“Hmm,” Batman grunted, “I can't begin to thank you enough for this, Katana. I have to warn you, Batgirl can be stubborn at times. Very willful.”

 

“Yes, I wonder who taught her that quality Bruce,” Tatsu replied, emphasizing her former teammate's name. It annoyed her slightly, how Batman would refer to her by her codename even in private. It was as if he was pained to admit they were actually friends, “and if anything, I should thank you. The last time you asked me to watch over a young woman, I gained a wonderful adopted daughter.”

 

“How is Halo these days?”

 

“Gabrielle is fine, attending college in Europe,” Tatsu rubbed the bridge of her nose, annoyed “forgetting to call, or write, all the time.”

 

“Children,” Batman replied with an amused tone.

“Hmm. Is there anything else I need to know?” asked Tatsu, “I'd really prefer not to keep her waiting all night. Tomorrow will be busy enough as it is.”

 

“Batgirl...didn't entirely grasp the concept and importance of secret identity when she began her career,” Batman stated, “I fear I wasn't as strict in that regard I as now know I should have been.”

 

“Understood,” Tatsu shrugged, “I'm hardly some defenseless flower. You'll have to excuse me, Bruce, but Cassandra is waiting.”

 

Tatsu turned to leave, but stopped when Batman grabbed her arm suddenly.

 

“Be patient with her. Some areas of her social education were neglected more than others,” Batman’s tone was tight and controlled, “but that was my mistake, not hers. Don't punish her for it, please.”

 

“She had a father who cared for her, and was willing to move heaven and earth for her if need be,” Tatsu stated, “that’s more than too many children can say.”  

 

&&&

 

When Tatsu arrived at the top of the stairs and into to the basement of her townhouse, Batgirl was there waiting, sword in hand. Tatsu thought Cassandra might have been mistake for a statue, the young woman stood so still.

 

“The sword please?” Tatsu reached out her hand for the weapon, “and take your mask off, young lady. The drapes are all closed, but I prefer to talk to a person in this home, not a mask.”

 

Cassandra handed the sword over without hesitation, but moved for her mask ever so slowly. It wasn't as if she didn't trust the older woman (Batman clearly did, and despite it all, that was enough for Cassandra), nor was she overly concerned about her 'secret identity'.

 

No, she hesitated because she had no idea what would happened next, once it was removed.

 

Once it was off, Tatsu directed Cassandra to follow her into the house, and specifically the living room, without saying a word. She'd been briefed on the young girl's intuitive nature, but seeing it was another thing all together. It was odd, to say the least, for Tatsu to see someone so young and so passive. It was almost as if Cassandra was looking for any direction at all, thought Tatsu.

 

“For the foreseeable, this is where we'll be living,” Tatsu motioned to the living room with her hand and decided to float an idea, “this is your house as much as mine, do you have any decoration ideas? I've just moved in myself, so I'm hardly set on what I want.”

 

“Its fine,” answered Cassandra without so much as glancing at the room itself.

 

Noting this, Tatsu began up the stairs and stopped in front of the first door. Cassandra looked inside to see the boxes of personal items, keepsakes, clothes and some old pictures, that she'd packed the previous day.

 

All combined, there wasn't more than four boxes and a bed to represent her entire life up until now.

 

“This is your room. And of course, you can decorate it anyway you like.”

 

Observing the bed and dresser, Cassandra stated simply, “Its fine.”

 

“Well then, I'll decorate it as I see fit,” Tatsu replied.

 

Cassandra looked at the older woman, “How...will you know...if I like it?”

 

“I won't,” replied Tatsu warned, “I guess that's all the more reason for you to do it yourself.”

 

Cassandra was about to reply, but thought the better of it. She couldn’t help but remember all the times Alfred had ‘caught’ Batman in some meaningless but still somehow important argument. So **_this_** was how that felt, she realized.

 

Tatsu started walking down the hall again, “And lastly, we have my room.”

 

Cassandra wasn’t too surprised to see that the room was fully decorated. Laying across the bed was a red and yellow custom in a sun pattern that looked exactly like the flag that was across the far wall. Resting on the book case was another katana, resting inside a glass case emblazoned with several odd looking symbols that Cassandra couldn’t quite place.

 

“As Batman doubtlessly informed you, I once went by the codename of Katana,” Tatsu pointed towards the costume, “I’ve retired, and you’ll feel why in a moment.”

 

Cass was about to ask what she meant by feel when Tatsu opened the glass case. Almost instant, Cassandra felt her battle hardened nerves scream danger, and without hesitation she dropped into a fighting stance, her eyes and ears searching for her invisible foe while her heart pounded in her ear. Every instinct told Cassandra that she was surrounded by the most vile and disgusting enemies, even if she could not see them.

 

Tatsu closed the lid, and the feeling vanished as quickly as it appeared. Cassandra did the math.

 

“What is in….that case!?” she demanded, her voice carrying the authority of Batgirl.

 

“What you just felt was the magic of my other sword, the one I used in my time as a member of the Outsiders,” Tatsu explained, her tone deadly serious, “it's called the Soul Taker. The souls of some of the most evil and feared men are locked away inside. I used to be able to wield it without fear of their evil overcoming me, but there have been...changes with regards to magic. Luckily, this case has been enchanted to contain its evil, and I know how to resist its pull. I simply gave you this demonstration so that you were forewarned to never, ever touch the sword.”

 

“You should destroy it,” Cassandra hissed. She didn’t mean to sound so angry, but she had a hard time recalling when she was in the presence of such pure evil. Not even the likes of Shiva and Deathstroke compared to the horror she felt.

 

“There’s simply no way to do that without destroying the souls trapped within,” Tatsu explained, “and even if the soul of my husband weren’t trapped as well, I could never do that. No one deserves such a thing.”

 

Cassandra wasn’t sure she agreed, if only because she wasn’t that familiar with the concept of a soul. But given her own ignorance and Tatsu’s belief that she was correct, Cassandra decided not to press the matter.

 

“We have a full day ahead of us tomorrow, Cassandra, and we’ll need our sleep. Good night, I'll see you in the morning.”

 

&&&

 

The next day started with an early morning trip to the Gotham Department of Records. They two of them loitered in the lobby for several minutes before a round, pudgy man came down to meet them, a folder tucked underneath one arm.

 

“Mrs. Yamashiro? Gary Wilbur,” the man extended a hand in greeting, “and you must be Cassandra.”

 

Cass nodded, though she was becoming annoyed that so many people who’s name she didn’t know, knew hers. Two too many thus far.

 

“Oracle told me everything you’d need,” Gary handed her the file, “social security number, foster care ‘records’ from Bludhaven, birth certificate, the whole nine yards. Given what happened in Bludhaven, the holes in her records are easy to explain, and saves me some trouble. Can't have things looking too perfect, that attracts more attention than no records!”

 

"I understand. We shouldn't overplay our hand," Tatsu took a moment to scan the forged documents, verifying that all the documents she needed were inside. Although she hadn’t too much experience in forging documents, at a glance they appeared to be perfectly legitimate.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Wilbur,” Tatsu said finally, “Oracle didn't tell me why you'd be willing to help, but I'm thankful all the same.”

 

“He saved my daughter,” the man volunteered instantly, “some online pervert tricked my daughter into running away. A few days later, I get an email from nowhere, someone calling themselves Oracle sends me an email, promising to return my daughter. I thought it was just a sick joke, but the next day, cops are calling me, telling them they got a tip and found my girl, along with detailed files that're enough to put the bastard away for the rest of his natural life. If you're his friend, that's good enough for me.”

 

“Thank you for your work,” Tatsu decided against correcting the man's mistake regarding Oracle's gender. Even Tatsu knew that the less said about the mistress of computers, the better, “I wish I could buy you breakfast, but there’s somewhere we need to be.”

 

“I understand,” the man replied, “daughters are God’s treasure, but they require all kinds of work.”

 

“They are indeed,” Tatsu smiled, “thank you again. You've been a greater help than you know.”

 

As the two women left, Cassandra found herself puzzled by Tatsu's words. Did the older woman really think of her as a daughter, or was she just agreeing with what the man said. Though he obviously cared for her, not even Batman went so far as to openly address her as 'his', let alone daughter. Cassandra didn't know how she felt about either option, really.

 

So, mustering up her courage, the world's most talented martial artist decided just to ask.

 

“Where next?” blurted out Cass.

 

 _Coward_ , Batgirl rebuked herself silently.

 

“Before you can begin school, you'll need to take some placement tests,” explained Tatsu, “to see where you will need help when you begin your classes.”

 

Not entirely understanding, Cassandra nodded and mentally indexed the information. Nothing she couldn't handle.

 

Right...?

 

&&&

 

When their car pulled into the parking space, Cassandra Cain instantly felt uncomfortable. The building was designed like a school, like what Robin attended but bigger and greater somehow. From watching TV, Cassandra knew that when people were finished with their average schooling they went to a higher one called college. This place looked a little bit like that, and Cassandra found the idea deeply unsettling.

 

“What…is this place?”

 

“Gotham City Institution of Meta Impact and Evaluation,” Tatsu explained, “they’re attached to the school you’ll be attending.”

 

The explanation did nothing to settle Cassandra’s unease. As they entered the building, Cassandra made a point to keep close to Tatsu as her eyes darted around, taking the details of the interior. The place very much reminded Cassandra of the hospital, minus the distinctive smell.

 

They checked in with the receptionist, and were asked to take a seat in the waiting room.

 

For the moment, Cassandra set aside her unease to simply observe the people around her.

 

It was obvious to her that the people here were some sort of care providers. They moved with purpose and intent, their minds always preoccupied with something else. There wasn’t a single person working here that didn’t have to be somewhere else immediately, it seemed.

 

But what really caught Cassandra’s attention were not the staff, but what she could only assume were the patients.

 

One boy walked past the waiting room hunched over, drooling sliding down his mouth and incoherent grunts coming from his mouth. That was odd enough by itself, but just a glance at his body language and Cassandra saw that the boy wasn’t putting on any act, he was in fact animalistic!

 

As if that weren’t baffling enough, Cassandra saw an older man walk by, arguing with himself, literally. Though that wasn’t too strange for Cassandra, she had fought Two-Face after all, it was still an oddity.

 

The last person Cassandra saw truly startled her. It was a young girl, age eleven with light blond hair and a haunted look Cassandra had seen before, literally. She recognized the girl as a victim of the Joker. She’d been kidnapped by the madman because her father was once a (disloyal) henchman, taken on ‘Take your Daughter to work’ day by the Clown Prince as an object lesson to others who might cross him. Batman briefed everyone on the situation, even though he’d forbidden their involvement in the case.

 

Eventually the girl was rescued by Batman himself, but surviving the Joker, and living, were two entirely different things. Cassandra knew that from experience.

 

All three individuals were accompanied by doctors and their parents (or legal guardians, whatever) who’s concern and fear about their children’s welfare was obvious

 

Unbidden, Cassandra mentally did the math, and quickly found the only common factor between the patients. On some basic level, there was something wrong with them all. Cass followed the thought to its natural conclusion, about why she’d been brought here, and began shifting in her seat uncomfortably.

 

“Ms. Cain? Ms. Yamashiro?” Cassandra glanced at the doctor who’s just entered. White lab coat, thick rimmed glasses and silver hair, he didn’t seem threatening until he spoke.

 

“I’m Doctor Aaron Jackson. I’ll be evaluating Cassandra.”

 

Now Cassandra found him threatening. She looked at Tatsu with eyes that said ‘don’t make me go!’.

 

“Will you be needing me to watch?”

 

“That shouldn’t be necessary,” Dr. Jackson assured her, “it’s best if there are no outside influences on her evaluation. That is, if she’s comfortable away from you.”

 

Tatsu gently patted Cassandra hand, “She’ll be fine.”

 

“Alright. Cassandra, if you’ll just follow me, we’ll get started.”

 

Cassandra stood up, and gave her guardian one last, pleading look.

 

“You’ll do great,” Tatsu assured her, “trust me.”

 

&&&

 

The conversation down the corridor was perhaps one of the most awkward time in Cassandra’s young life.

 

Dr. Jackson was attempting to make small talk, to ease Cass’ discomfort with ‘chit-chat’, but Cassandra was at a loss at how to answer the man correctly. After all, she never cared about the weather and how she felt really wasn’t his business, but for whatever reason knew it was frown upon if she actually came out and said as much.

 

To make matters even worse, Cassandra knew that the doctor was evaluating her, watching her reactions while trying to form an opinion about her. While there was nothing wrong with that per say, Cassandra felt she knew that she’d be found wanting.

 

“Here we are,” the Doctor ushered Cassandra into the room, “make yourself comfortable. We’ll begin in a moment.”

 

The room was odd, to say the least. There was a small table with two chairs across from one another, and in the corner was a book shelf with no just books, but stuff animals and board games.

 

Cassandra felt a little offended by the sight of the children’s game. She was no innocent child.

 

“We use these rooms for a variety of different purposes,” explained Dr. Jackson, “just ignore the toys. If you’ll take a seat and give me a moment, we’ll begin.”

 

Cassandra observed several cards scattered across the table. There were common patterns in almost all of them, she observed, and on a whim, Cassandra organized them in accordance to their respective patterns.

 

“I'm ready to... begin,” Dr. Jackson looked at the table and did a double take, dumbstruck by what he saw. The cards that he'd brought to begin the testing, cards with intricate patterns that took most children, no matter how intelligent, at least five minutes apiece to decipher, and here was a young woman who'd finished five sets of the cards in the several seconds it'd taken him to remove and flip through the evaluation books he needed.

 

It was impressive, without a doubt. But also a little annoying, reflected the doctor.

 

“Sorry,” apologized Cassandra honestly.

 

“It's alright, dear,” the Doctor removed several more cards from his book. On a whim, he decided to test a theory, “I've plenty more tests.”

 

Removing several cards from the book, he placed on the table in front of Cass. The cards had the pictures of an aardvark, elephant, shark, kitten and a cat, respectively.

 

"What do you think I want you to do with these, Cassandra?" he with genuine curiosity. If what he was beginning to suspect was true, he realized that he might have to change how he was planning on conducting the tests entirely!

 

Cassandra said nothing in response to his question, too worried about answering correctly to actually answer him at all. The way he looked at her, worried Cassandra to her core. It wasn't as if the older man's gaze was remotely inappropriate. In fact, the young crime fighter knew she would have had an easier time if the man was secretly fantasizing about her. she was used to that.

 

No, one hundred percent of his attention was devoted to her and her stupidity, Cassandra felt. Never willing to show weakness though, Cassandra went to work on the cards. She didn't need to be told that she was expected to put them in order, she was that smart at least. But figuring out what order, that part was a little more tricky.

 

Dr. Jackson watched with interest as Cassandra's hands hovered above the cards, deciding which went where. A second after it passed over the card with the aardvark, Cassandra placed it at the front. Then, after her hand passed over the card with the picture of the cat, she seemned to change her mind instantly and placed it next to the picture of the aardvark. The cat picture was followed by the elephant, then the kitten and finally the shark.

 

"Very good," observed the doctor, "now, can you tell me what you just did?"

 

"I...placed them in order?" Cassandra ventured. She couldn't imagine her ability to read body language had failed her on a mere, average doctor.  

 

"That you did," he answered, "but do you know what order?"

 

Cassandra looked at the animals pictured, unable to find an commonality .

 

"You placed them all in perfect order alphabetically. But according to your guardian, you're illiterate."

 

Cassandra felt as though her heart might explode. Caught, and scrambling to cover, she tried her best to cover, but all she managed to get out was, "I...I...I..."

 

"It's quiet alright," Dr. Jackson assured her, placing his hand on top of hers to reassure her, "all it means is that we'll have to restructure the tests somewhat."

 

After the doctor stood up and left, with the promise of returning in a few minutes, Cassandra placed her hand over her mouth to cover the sounds of her sobs. She knew she was stupid, she just never realized that she was so stupid that they had to make new tests!

 

&&&

 

_Later_

Dr. Jackson handed Cassandra a set of earphones.

 

"Just place these on, and just listen to the directions, Cassandra."

 

Nodding, Cass placed the earphones over her head, and with a flip of the switch, began listening.

 

“Listen to all the directions before beginning,” the recording droned, “first, bark like a dog. When you have finished that, hop on one leg. Next…”

 

The directions came slowly, one after the other and each dumber than the first, but Cassandra listened intently, remembering each one. After all, once the recording was done, she would be expected to do each and every instruction to the letter, self respect be damned.

 

&&&

 

Dr. Jackson stepped out of the room, and walked into the adjoining room, from where he could watch Cassandra as she listened to the recording.

 

In truth, he wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Most youngsters, when given the test, followed the directions instantly so as not to be overwhelmed by the sheer volume of instructions. Those that didn’t were at least visibly worried that they’d be unable to remember all the instructions.

 

Of course, there were those who figured out the trick, but the good doctor didn't think that Cassandra was one of those. Which made her casual attitude all the more confusing.

 

Cassandra waded through truly awkward and down right stupid questions before the recording reached its end with its final instruction.

 

&&&

 

"...and finally, do not do any of the commands you just heard."

 

That last order (as Cassandra saw it, anyways) was like a slap in the face to the young woman. She'd just spent four minutes listening to the recording, all for nothing!?

 

Taking the headphones off and placing them on the table, Cassandra found herself utterly baffled. Why would they ask her not to do all the things they mentioned previously? Did they think she wasn't smart enough to complete even those simple tasks?

 

"We're just about done, Cassandra. A few final tests, and we can send you on your way.”

 

“Don’t have to bark…like dog, or hop?”

 

“No, not at all,” Dr. Jackson looked at the young woman, and decided on an impromptu test to satisfy a theory he was forming, “However, I would like you to repeat back the instructions in the order you heard them. Take your time, and do your best.”

 

To his complete surprise, Cassandra repeated every instruction perfectly (albeit in broken sentences). Some twenty plus instructions, and she remembered them all.

 

 _A very gifted young woman_ , the Doctor reflected to himself. Which was both a gift and a curse, he knew from past experience.

 

&&&

 

_Several Hours later_

It was nearly four o clock when Cassandra finally found her way back to Tatsu. She plopped down heavily into the chair next to her, and seemed intent to stare a hole into the floor.

 

“Ms. Yamashiro, would you follow me, please? I’m ready to give you my evaluation.”

 

Tatsu set down her magazine, and glanced towards Cassandra, “Will Cassandra be joining us?”

 

“No, it’s best if this is discussed just between the two of us,” answered the doctor.

 

“Alright then,” Tatsu looked towards Cassandra, who was still had her head drooped towards the floor, “don’t worry, Cassandra. We’ll be done soon.”

 

&&&

 

When they entered the office, Dr. Jackson took his seat behind his desk, steepled his hands together, and exhaled a deep, calming breath.

 

“Before I begin,” he started, “did you by chance see the young man earlier, who was hunched over and growling?”

 

“I did,” Tatsu answered, trying to fake some mild confusion. In her time as a heroine, she’d definitely seen weirder.

 

“That young man was one of two dozen controlled by Gorilla Grodd in a battle against The Flash,” explained Dr. Jackson, “Grodd’s done the same to over a hundred people over the years, but that young man is the only one to turn and stay animalistic as a result. He was a bright, healthy young man with no history of physical or mental abuse, no meta-gene, nothing that sets him apart from others who’ve been possessed by the same supervillain before or since.

 

“I’m telling you this, because meta-impact evaluation utilizes as much guess work as much as it does science. We’re limited in a lot of ways, especially if we don’t know the cause of the original impairment, or medical history.”

 

 _That’s okay_ , thought the once heroine, _because I do_.

 

“That affects our final analyze, so you’ll need to balance what I tell you here with what you observe about Cassandra at home. Do you understand?”

 

“Of course. I’ve long known parenting isn’t a science, and I’ll adjust as need be.”

 

The doctor nodded, and Tatsu knew that was what he had hoped to hear. Opening a manilla folder, he began, “Lets start at the beginning. As I understand it, you found Cassandra by the side of the road, twenty miles outside of Bludhaven, correct?”

 

That was a lie, of course. But one easily maintained by the destruction of Bludhaven following a supervillain attack, and Cassandra’s general lack of a true civilian life.

 

“That’s correct,” answered Tatsu, “her clothes were torn, and she looked as though she’d been living in the wild. I didn’t feel I could leave her there and live with myself.”

 

“Too many others could,” sighed the doctor, “but that would explain some of the tests we performed. There are some abnormalities in her blood work, and her brain scans are odd…to say the least.”

 

Tatsu knew the source of both those issues. Cassandra’s mother, Shiva, had placed Cassandra in a Lazarus Pit to revive her then dead daughter. Tatsu wasn’t the least bit surprised that Cassandra still had some remnants of that in her bloodstream. Resurrection wasn’t easy.

 

As for the odd brain scans, according to Batman a telepath had reordered Cassandra’s brain early in her career, allowing her to actually use the speech centers of her brain to form words and use her vocal cords. It was perhaps the only way Cassandra would have ever learned to talk at all, and it would certainly account for some odd brain scans.

 

But Tatsu still had to play ignorant, “Abnormalities? They’re not harmful, are they?”

 

“We don’t believe so, no,” replied Dr. Jackson, “all the same, it’s something you need to keep an eye on. Has she told you anything about her past?”

 

“No, she saw she doesn’t remember anything beyond waking up in the woods.”

 

“Not surprising. I think she’s lying.” said the doctor bluntly.

 

“I do too,” Tatsu shot back, too proud to be seen as some naïve dupe, “alone, scared, who wouldn’t lie, at least a little, to avoid being thrown away like trash? But what makes you think she’s lying, doctor?”

 

“Miss Cassandra demonstrates signs of hyper-sensitivity,” explained the doctor, “when I was performing a few of the intelligence tests, she found the answers by paying attention to me, and not the tests.”

 

“Hyper-sensitivity? I’m not quite sure what you mean.”

 

“It’s a condition children in abusive situations develop. They learn how to read their environment, and how to react and respond to avoid abuse and please their abuser. It’s a survival mechanism, one that Cassandra has in spades.”

 

Tatsu thought back to Batman’s original briefing regarding Cassandra, how Cain had trained the young girl in martial arts since birth. Tatsu thought the kind doctor was lucky he didn’t know just how right he was regarding Cassandra suffering abuse. Survival mechanism had literal meaning when it came to the young girl’s upbringing.

 

“I don’t feel that she’s a threat, but it does pose a problem for her education, but I’ll come back to that. There are several other concerns I have as well.

 

“First, perhaps the easiest issue of all, is that Ms. Cain is dyslexic. One of the more profound cases I’m afraid, and I fear it will take a good deal of therapy to correct.”

 

“I understand that learning isn’t easy,” answered Tatsu, “and I assure you I’m more than willing to do my part to help.”

 

“That’s good to hear,” Dr. Jackson stated, “which brings us to our second problem. Cassandra Cain is a genius. Without a doubt one of the smartest people in this building that’s not on pay roll.”

 

The doctor allowed the statement to sink in, but Tatsu was more confused than surprised.

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“It took a little doing, arranging the tests so that she couldn’t cheat. But I’m convinced that Cassandra is a genius. I taught her basic math, and within the hour she’d mastered the multiplication tables. In addition, she perfect recall, both visually and verbally,” explained the doctor with a somewhat reserved look on his face.

 

“I fail to see how that’s an issue, doctor.”

 

“The problem comes from the fact that nearly every learning disabled child feels they know how stupid they are,” deadpanned the Dr. Jackson, “they see that they have an aptitude, a gift almost, in one area, and then see that they struggle with some of the most basic things that other children master with ease. With Cassandra, it’ll be reading, and expressing herself to a lesser degree. She won’t understand why she has so much trouble. Just that they can, and she can’t. Disability won’t be the answer she comes up with, it will be stupidity.”

 

“Children can be very cruel at times,” replied Tatsu, “even with themselves.”

 

“Especially with themselves. Given her abusive background, it’s unlikely she’ll come to you for help. Even in the best of situations, children are so ashamed of their perceived inability that they find a way to hide it, by acting out, or avoiding situations where attention might be called to their disability. With Cassandra, she may feel that if she asks for help, she’s being a burden and possibly threatening her relationship with you,” Dr. Jackson sighed heavily, “it’s only fair to warn you, you’ll have some work ahead of you.”

 

“I understood that long before I signed the adoption papers,” Tatsu reassured him, “Is that all?”

 

“That’s not enough?” the Doctor asked wryly, “no, that’s about it, the big stuff, anyways. I trust you know about Cassandra’s ignorance regarding history and such?”

 

“I do, and I promise I won’t allow her to remain ignorant for long.”

 

“Then that should be it. I’ll type up my report and send it to the school tonight. There’s staff there twenty four hours a day, and they’ll work up a schedule for Cassandra,” Dr. Jackson stood up and opened the door for Tatsu, “by tomorrow morning, Cassandra will be ready for her first day of school.”

 

“Tomorrow? You people work fast.”

 

“For all the money Bruce Wayne has given this institution, we really ought to be done by now,” chuckled the doctor.

 

&&&

 

On the drive home, Tatsu reflected on how accurate the doctor’s assessment had been. The entire time since they’d left the institution, Cassandra hadn’t said a word, merely shrinking into herself and staring out the window, a defeated look etched on her face.

 

If Batman himself hadn't told her, Tatsu would have never believed the young woman sitting across from her was Batgirl. The same Batgirl who defeated the then greatest martial artist Shiva not once but twice in open combat.

 

"You did fine," Tatsu said, both to break the silence and bolster Cassandra's clearly dwindling self confidence, "excellent, in fact."

 

"I did not," Cassandra countered, "they only ask questions...I didn't know answers to. All of them."

 

"Believe me when I tell you that you did fine," Tatsu reassured her. It occurred to her that Cassandra would know instantly if she were lying with just a glance at her body language. But all the same, it wouldn't do her any good to make Cassandra look, she'd find some excuse not to believe it.

 

Seeing a grocery store up ahead, Tatsu suddenly realized that she hadn't anything prepared for dinner. Between establishing Cassandra's false identity and arranging the placement test for school, the concept of dinner had completely slipped her mind.

 

 _Well, no time like the present_ , Tatsu reflected as she pulled into the parking lot.

 

&&&

 

"Cassandra, would you grab us a steak from the produce section?" Tatsu ran her eyes over the spices, trying to decide which would be best for tonight. It was a mildly difficult task as she had no idea what kind of steak Cassandra would bring back, but she was confident it would be one Cassandra liked, so she would go from there. And besides, there was no reason why she couldn't restock her spice cabinet while she waited.

 

A few minutes later, Cassandra returned, tossing a steak into the cart angrily, her eyes watering.

 

"Cassandra, what happened?"

 

"Didn't know what produce... section was," Cassandra explained, her voice cracking, "so...I asked. Person who answered, called me...stupid."

 

Tatsu gritted her teeth. Enough was enough. Incensed that anyone could be so casually disrespectful, especially to her charge, she would be damned if she let an offense like that slide.

 

"You will point the person out, and we will have words," Tatsu snarled through gritted teeth.

 

"They didn't say it...with words," Cass explained.

 

Tatsu cursed inwardly for a moment, before answering. Might as well use the last weapon in her arsenal, "Well, they were wrong. Look at me, Cassandra, and tell me if I'm lying when I say..."

 

The former Outsider's words were drowned out by the sound of automatic weapons. The two snapped their heads to the side, where they saw at least half a dozen young men, fully armed barging into the store.

 

"Everyone on the floor! Now!" shouted the men.

 

Tatsu was beside herself with shock. Gotham was easily one of the most violent cities in America, but an armed robbery and hostage taking at a grocery store? What in God's name could they be thinking?

 

In the split second it took Tatsu to look back at Cassandra, the girl had vanished like a ghost.

 

"Hey you! Chink!" One of the gang members swaggered up to Tatsu, waving his gun as if it were a knife, "get yo' ass on the floor, now!"

 

Tatsu calmly raised her hands, and began to kneel. She knew it would raise too many questions if she disabled the youth threatening her, and that there was no way she could handle the entire gang without innocent bystanders getting hurt. So, for now, she would play the docile victim, but not before she took one parting shot.

 

"Young man, this is Gotham. You have no idea the wraith you are about to bring crashing down upon yourself."

 

Next issue: Cassandra tears through some crooks, but then has to face an even greater challenge. That's right, school!

 

    

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**DC Infinity Presents**

**Batgirl # 6**

**All in a Lifetime's Work**

**Part 2**

 

_Gotham City_

 

“Alright, no one moves, no one gets hurt!”

 

Tatsu found herself increasingly amazed by the gang’s brazen attitude, matched only by her astonishment at their sheer stupidity. Ten men (boys might have been more accurate, Tatsu thought to herself. Even if they could vote and drink, this gang was hardly composed of _men_ ), brandishing weapons had spread out through the store, and then started herding customers and employees of the store alike into a corner of the grocery store. Most of the people huddled together, caught between crying or praying, terrified of what the young men might do to them.

 

Tatsu Yamashiro, once the heroine known as Katana, however, simply stifled a yawn. With a casual interest, she tried to decipher the criminals' motives in her mind while she awaited the rescue she knew to be coming.

 

Just what did they hope to accomplish by taking hostages in a grocery store, of all places? There wasn’t anything here that’d be worth the criminal charges, and even the dumbest criminals had to know that the police would arrive inside of ten minutes. If the silent alarms hadn’t been tripped already, someone outside surely would have seen the armed men enter and alerted the police themselves.  

 

“Don't no one try anything stupid!” snarled the leader, a confident grin plastered across his face, “The cops are a little too busy checking out a suspicious package at the court house to come rescue your butts! It's got tubes and everythin', so be calm and no one has to get hurt!”

 

 _Well, perhaps not so stupid_ , reflected Tatsu.

 

Regardless, they still had terribly poor luck. Even on her worst day, Tatsu knew she would still be able to handle them, sword or no. However, she also knew that if she did, she couldn't ensure the safety of the hostages, nor would she be able to convincing explain how an 'ordinary woman' like herself dealt with an entire gang single-handily. The scrutiny it would bring would instantly destroy the new life she was building for both herself and Cassandra.

 

But in the end, it really wouldn't matter. These young men were about to face a far greater threat, one with far less mercy. And they'd be lucky if they saw her coming.

 

&&&

 

Batgirl had decided on a rear approach by the time she'd removed her costume from the car's secret compartment. Due to time and space constraints, Cassandra only had only half her normal weapons stored in the belt at the moment, but she wasn't overly concerned. She rarely used them half the time anyways, and it was even rarer that she found she needed anything other than the typical batarang.

 

With barely a thought, Cassandra picked the lock and entered silently. She saw two of the thugs rummaging through the employee lockers, with both anger and anticipation.

 

“Where the hell could he hide the shit, man?” Bobby Evers went from locker to locker, ripping the contents out and scattering them on the floor, “do we know which one was his or if he even these damn things? Jake?”

 

Bobby looked over his shoulder, and stopped dead. His best friend Jake was on his knees, his eyes rolled to the back of his head, while Batgirl had her left arm snaked around his neck, and while her right hand held a tight grip around a razor sharp batarange, it's sleek metal coating seeming to shine even in darkness.

 

“You’re searching. You will tell me… for what. And I will hurt you.”

 

Cassandra allowed Jake’s unconscious form to fall forward like a rag doll. With deliberate slowness, Batgirl stepped towards her cowering prey.

 

“There is no... or.”

 

&&&

 

“Bobby? Jake? Man, pick up, you assholes!”

 

Tatsu watched with a smirk on her face as the gang leader tried, and failed, to raise his friends on their cell phones. Just when the boy was about to give up, someone picked up.

 

“Tommy! It’s arggh!” the shrill scream of pain startled both the hostages and the gang leader.

 

“Bobby! Bobby, what happened!” Tommy’s face became flush with worry. Tatsu suppressed a knowing smile, “what’s going on?!”

 

“Don’t worry…” answered an impossibly cold, detached voice, “you’ll learn.”

 

And the line went dead.

 

Tommy hadn’t even realized his cell phone had slipped out of his hands until it struck the cold floor. The slight –clak!- of it hitting the tile was enough to make every criminal jump. Desperate to keep control, Tommy realized he needed to give his soldiers orders before their nerve broke completely.

 

“This place isn’t that big! Spread out and find…find whoever the hell that was!”

 

The gang wavered only for a moment, and then scattered, beginning their hunt.

 

&&&

 

'Mad Dog Petey', as he was teased and ridiculed by his fellow gang members, stalked down the paper towel aisle with his gun in his right and, and his left hand gripping his wrist, just like they did in TV shows.

 

Unfortunately for Petey, he'd never actually been in a fight of any kind. As luck would always have it, he'd be somewhere else when a gun battle, bar room brawl or fist fight had broken out. The only reason no one suspected him of betraying them is because he always took the beating his gang handed him without complaint.

 

But finally, luck had broken his way. He (finally, finally!) was able to prove his worth to his friends and adopted family. As he came out of the aisle, he swept his gun to the left, but saw nothing.

 

Sweeping to the right, he realized that the Batgirl was standing not two feet away, her cold eyes bearing down on him.

 

With casual disgust, she brought her left arm down and knocked Petey's gun from his hand, drove her elbow into his throat, with just the precise amount of strength to insure his silence but not kill him, and then swung her fist upwards, striking his face with the back of her palm, instantly rendering him unconscious.

 

Technically, Petey still hadn't been in a real fight.

 

“It's Batgirl! Get her!”

 

Cassandra, well aware of the four man group that was sixteen feet away and approaching fast, grabbed the unconscious Petey and swung his limp body towards his friends as an obvious human shield.

 

The men hesitated, just as Cassandra knew they would. This gang, in many ways, considered one another family. They wouldn't cut down one of their own to get to her, not when the prize was so small, little bigger than their actual chances of hitting her.

 

So the men discarded their guns, and charged with fists instead.

 

Dropping Petey, Batgirl sized up the first one.

 

The man was of average height, good health and an excellent sprinter, as evidenced by the fact that he was a good six feet closer than the others. To Batgirl, that just meant he'd be the first to fall.

 

Batgirl lashed out with her foot when he got within two feet, smashing his ankle bones with her steel toed boot. The man screamed, but Cassandra wasn’t quite done with him yet. Pivoting slightly on the man’s smashed foot, and grinding the bone shards together, Batgirl struck the center of his chest with her flattened palm, expelling the air from his lungs.

 

Her opponent now unconscious, Batgirl decided to put him to use. Grabbing the man’s left arm, she spun him around and flung him into his fellows with all her strength.

 

The three went down in a tangle of arms and legs, crashing to the floor. The middle man Cassandra judged to be the most dangerous, given his six foot six height, muscle bound frame and scarred fists that seen their fair share of violence. Best to deal with him quickly, she decided.

 

Batgirl swung her foot past the man’s face, so closely that her heel came within a hair’s length. The man foolishly thought that he’d been spared, and thought that until Cassandra’s boot slammed down onto his face, removing him from the equation.

 

Her remaining two foes scrambled to their feet, and took positions opposite to one another, thinking they could surround her. Cassandra could see that neither of them expected to succeed. Maybe if she demonstrated how outclassed they were, perhaps they’d make wiser choices in the future, thought Cassandra.

 

No, she what she was planning next had nothing to do with her wounded pride.

 

The man on her right swung his fist, aiming her for head, while the man on Cassandra’s left executed a fairly basic snap kicked aimed at her stomach.

 

Cassandra caught both attacks with her bare hands before they struck, and held them with ease. She allowed that fact to sink in for just long enough, before pushing both men backwards with contemptuous ease.

 

Cassandra taught the man to her left what a real kick was, with a perfectly executed round-house to the side of his head. As she allowed the second man to approach, his fists raised in what he knew to be a futile effort, Cassandra reached into her belt and removed a single weapon.

 

Dispatching the thug with a single but quick blow, Cassandra counted for several seconds, and then threw the batarang she'd removed from her utility belt one foot to the right of the canned goods section of the grocery store, just as one gang member, who thought himself smart by hanging back for a surprise blitz with his sidearm, stepped out.

 

The projectile caught the young man just above the eyes, and he fell to the ground without ever firing a single shot.

 

Remembering the count she'd performed, and confident that they would leave at least one gang member with the hostages, Cassandra knew that there was just one last criminal to deal with, and then she would be all but finished.

 

To her surprise, Cassandra found the remaining thug waiting for her in the frozen foods section. The man waiting for her was six foot six, broad shoulder, with torn jeans and a shirt that looked as if it had never seen the inside of a washer machine.

 

The man's body language was strong and confident, and stood at the ready in a manner that indicated he had at least some formal training.

 

 _Might find a challenge_ , Batgirl thought to herself.

 

“Name's Tyrone Biddle, Batslut!” declared the thug. He squatted, and Cassandra could see him removing some ankle weights he'd attached, “and unlike them other foo's, I'm ready for you Bat freaks!”

 

Batgirl rolled her eyes under her mask. There was one in every crowd, that somehow thought they were skilled or strong enough to defeat a Bat. Cassandra knew that if she were so inclined, she could have put the man down while he was loosening his leg weights. But she waited. Cass would at least give him the respect of an equal, even if he didn't deserve it.

 

“Twenty pounds,” Tyrone held his weights up proudly, “wore these things everywhere I freakin' went.” he threw the weights over his shoulder, “you're going down now!”

 

Cassandra took a step back to avoid the man's opening left cross, and ducked her head underneath the follow-up kick. The thug was faster than most, she gave him that.

 

But not faster than Mad Dog, Shiva or even Shrike and certainly not a smarter fighter than them. And certainly not fast enough to catch her.

 

For a good thirty seconds, Cassandra did nothing but ducking and dodging, as she watched Tyrone's body move. How he went for a punch, the attacks he favored versus those he didn't, and those he couldn't and compiled all that information inside her head, all while dodging attacks that might have crippled or killed her if they actually connected.

 

Finally, Batgirl had decided that she'd had enough information. As Tyrone swung a left hook aimed for her head, Cassandra grabbed the handle to the freezer's glass door next to her and swung it open, right in the path of her foe's fist.

 

“Arrgh!” Tyrone screamed as his fist traveled through the glass, it's sharp edges cutting his flesh in turn. Instinctively pulling his fist back, Tyrone cradled his bleeding hand to his chest as pain wracked his body.

 

“You should know good fighters pay attention...to their environment,” chided Batgirl as she covered her mouth to fake a yawn. Amateurs usually responded to dismissal with anger, which in turn led to mistakes.  

 

“I'll kill you!”

 

The man lunged forward, with no pretense of skill, but Batgirl had expected that. She convincingly faked right, and then went left. Straightening her fingers, she jabbed Tyrone's kidneys with her left hand, and give his liver a good solid punch. Ducking under the pathetic backhand, Cassandra shifted to Tyrone's right side, repeating her attack perfectly, but this time she slammed the top of his knee with her boots, and brought the man tumbling down.

 

“I'll...I'll...kill you!” Tyrone gasped, his entire body wracked with pain now. Unlike most parts of the body, liver shots throbbed. Combined with the pain of his bleeding hand, his damaged knees and aching kidneys, the fact that he was still conscious was truly an impressive feat.

 

Without a word, Cassandra leap-frogged over his head. For a second, Tyrone braced himself for the pain, the beating that was sure to follow.

 

Ten seconds passed, and nothing happened.

 

Looking over his shoulder, Tyrone saw Batgirl crouched, several feet away, her back turned to him.

 

Forcing himself to his feet, despite the best advice of his body, Tyrone surged forward, carried by hate, fear and determination not to be beaten by any little girl, no matter what they were wearing.

 

Unfortunately, fate and irony were against him.

 

Batgirl spun around at the last second, and smashed Tyrone's vaunted twenty pound weights across his face. Blood, spit and teeth weresent flying through the air. Tyrone staggered, but didn't fall, so she slammed the other set into his stomach.

 

He fell instantly. Batgirl could have easily killed him with the weights if had she wished, or wasn't careful, but Cassandra was nothing if not precise. He'd be feeling it for weeks, but Tyrone would live. And hopefully he'd reconsider his life.

 

Dropping the weights, Cassandra decided to end this foolishness. She'd had enough fun, and the police would be here soon.

 

&&&

Tommy wiped a thick brow of sweat from his forehead. What had turned into a simple smash and grab was quickly turning into a nightmare. Tommy, along with the hostages, had heard the sounds of the fight, but knew nothing of what was actually happening.

 

As the seconds crawled by, Tommy finally got it in his head that a hostage might balance the scales. But as he turned towards the crowd, a batarange soared past his face so close, he could smell the metal.

 

“Try to harm a hostage…I take an eye,” hissed Batgirl.

 

No one doubted her.

 

Tommy swung his gun forward and began pounding the trigger. Bullet after bullet was sent flying, each one Cassandra side stepped with ease. Tatsu was amazed, watching Batgirl dodge the bullets with such grace it almost seemed as if it were a choreographed performance.

 

Tommy watched in terror as Batgirl dodged each and every shot, inching closer and closer as she did. Finally, she came to sudden stop not a foot away. Young Tommy, gun still in hand, drew a bead on her head and pulled the trigger.

 

-click!-

 

“You should learn to count…before you use a gun,” supplied Batgirl.

 

With one well placed chop to the neck, Tommy was no longer a factor.

 

For a moment, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. The threat was no more, dispatched by one of the legends of Gotham’s shadows. But when Batgirl snapped her head to the side, Tatsu was the only one among them who didn’t flinch.

 

Slowly, Cassandra scanned the crowd, before her eyes became locked on one man.

 

As Batgirl stepped forward, the crowd parted instinctively, no one having the strength of will to look the young crime-fighter in the eye, let alone stand in her path.

 

Tatsu watched in confusion as Batgirl grabbed the store's terrified pharmacist and hauled him to his feet, a look of outrage clearly visible underneath her mask.

 

“You drug people, don’t you?”

 

Tatsu felt her heart skip a beat. Did Cassandra know what she was doing, what exactly she was asking? Did she know the important differences between a doctor handing out prescriptions, and a punk dealing out narcotics on the street?

 

“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about!” the man stammered pathetically.

 

Batgirl grabbed the man’s hand, applied some force to pressure points few even knew of, and elicited a pained screamed from the terrified man.

 

 _This has gone on far enough_ , thought Tatsu to herself. Cassandra was on the verge of making a terrible mistake, of that she was certain, and Tatsu knew she would never be able to live with herself if she allowed that.

 

“Batgirl…”

 

Cassandra snapped her head to look at Tatsu, and gave her a look as cold as the Artic itself. Despite herself, Tatsu found her words die in her mouth long before they reached open air.

 

“You will confess,” Batgirl returned her attention towards the pharmacist, “or what I’ve just done…will seem like a mercy….to what I will do.”

 

Batgirl spun on her heels, the sound of her cape fluttering was like the beat of leather wings. She strode out of the grocery store just as blue and red lights and sirens announced the presence of law enforcement, though Tatsu doubted that they’d even see Batgirl.

 

&&&

 

If Tatsu had to choose between dealing with police officers as a civilian, or as that of her heroine persona Katana, there was simply no contest. As a heroine, discussions were brief and to the point. Police officers rarely wasted her time, always mindful of the superior power she possessed when compared to them.

 

But as a civilian, the police seemed intent on drawing everything out. It took considerable effort to convince the officers that she didn’t need to go to the hospital ‘just in case’ for any stress related treatment, and the officer who was interviewing her seemed to have never heard of the concept of ‘short hand’.

 

But in fairness, the extended time did allow Tatsu to eavesdrop. She was adept at reading lips while talking herself, and when the interview was over loitered on the edges of the policemen’s notice, observing this and that. An hour and a half after the hostage situation had ended, Tatsu had learned what she needed to, and made her way to her parked car (which she observed was now parked on the very edges of the parking lot, away from prying eyes).

 

Cassandra was in the passenger seat, leaning back as if taking a nap, but Tatsu could tell she was aware of everything that was happening around her.

 

“You were right,” Tatsu said as she got in, “from what I overheard, the doctor had been using illegal narcotics to make addicts of his patients. The gang you dispatched gave him the supplies so it wouldn't be traceable to him, but he apparently made the mistake of trying to then remove them from the deal.”

 

Despite all she'd seen and done in her life, Tatsu shuddered. The very idea that a doctor, someone instinctively entrusted with the welfare of the community, would willingly poison his own patients disturbed every fiber of her being. And though she had lived and worked in Gotham before, she found she could still be shocked by the moral bankruptcy of some of its citizens.

 

“Told you so,” groused Cassandra.

 

“You did,” Tatsu confessed, “and I'm sorry for not believing you. Let me see your hands.”

 

Cassandra brought them both up for inspection, and Tatsu was shocked to see that they hadn't a blemish on them. No tears, signs of bruising, not the slightest indication that they'd just been used to take down ten dangerous criminals. The senior heroine found herself a little shocked, and knew instantly it spoke towards her ward's skill.

 

“Why?”

 

“I can't have you showing up at school with bloody knuckles. It raises questions we don’t want to deal with,” Tatsu started the car, “it's a little too late for shopping, so I fear we'll have to make do with fast food. Would you like pizza or burgers?”

 

“Both.”

 

Tatsu rolled her eyes, “Next time. I know of a nearby pizza place, I think you'll like it.”

 

&&&

 

Tatsu rose with the sun, and began preparing for the day. Thankfully, she had enough supplies on hand to make Cassandra a lunch to carry with her. Quickly putting the lunch together, Tatsu placed it in Cassandra's backpack, and waited for a moment.

 

Tatsu knew, in a way only a parent knows, that Cassandra had awoken the moment she stepped out of her bed, and wondered if Cassandra might rouse herself to get an early start on the day.

 

But a few minutes passed, and it became obvious to her that Cassandra would rather pretend to be asleep than start the day for school.

 

 _She really is a fast learner,_ Tatsu shook her head in amusement.

 

Rather than return to bed, former heroine decided to meditate to pass the time. She stopped when Cassandra’s alarm clock (Tatsu had taken the liberty of programming it in advance) when off. The noise wasn’t especially loud, but to those who trained their senses to remain at a constant state of heightened awareness, it might as well have been a firecracker.

 

“I’m making bagels for breakfast,” Tatsu called, knowing Cassandra couldn’t ignore her, “hurry up and get dressed!”

 

“Can’t decide what to wear!” Cassandra answered back.

 

 _Learning much too fast_ Tatsu sighed to herself mentally as she went upstairs to help her ward.

 

When she entered, the elder heroine saw nearly a half dozen shirts and jeans strewn across the bed. Cassandra was examining herself in a mirror with such apprehension one might think she was planning to attend the Prom, not her first day of school.

 

“They don’t…feel right,” Cassandra explained as she tried on another shirt, “and people judge based on clothes…I saw that on TV.”

 

“Only the dumb ones,” answered Tatsu, “what color do you prefer?”

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Cassandra removed the shirt and tried another one on, “they don’t feel…right.”

 

“I really don’t think it’s the clothes that are the problem,” offered Tatsu.

 

Cassandra said nothing.

 

“Simply wear whatever you prefer. If people are going to judge you based on what you wear, shouldn’t it be something you like instead of something you think they will like?”

 

Looking at herself in the mirror for the millionth time, Cassandra found that Tatsu's words brought little comfort, and worse, almost seemed accepting of defeat.

 

But deep down inside, Cass wondered if she'd ever really be comfortable in clothes like these.

 

&&&

 

_Gotham Docks_

 

If there was one place for dumping corpses Peter Akins hated, it was the river.

 

Granted, he hated all corpse dumping downs, but mixing water with a corpse especially disgusting. The body became blue and bloated, fish dined on the exposed flesh while the water washed away vital evidence. Even if the sight wasn't enough to make a nun swear, the smell was.

 

So when he got the call that a man had been dredged from the river, Peter knew to skip his morning hash browns (unless he wanted the entire department to see him revisit them again). Not all sacrifices made in the line of duty were great ones.

 

When the officers on the scene directed him to the body, he expected a normally dressed, bloated corpse. What he got was a body that looked almost alive, dressed in a black suit that was obviously a Kevlar mesh (the Gotham Swat team had dozens of the things), holsters on each hip, empty. The coroner, a lady by the name of Alice Fleury, gave him a nod as she looked over her sheet.

 

“Looks like you got a 'cape case',” Alice smiled sarcastically. Gotham Detectives, as a rule, loathed the caped crowd and the trouble that always followed. Not a single 'cape case' was ever open and shut it seemed, not like other murders. The investigations often consumed countless hours with only a hint of pay off and rarely ever resulted in meaningful convictions, not when the defendants broke out of jail, or were assigned to the revolving door known as Arkhum Asylum.

 

But the young detective knew he wouldn’t get ahead by complaining, so he simply nodded in acknowledgement and examined the corpse. As with any ‘cape case’, he was surprised by what he found.

 

The body was dressed in an all black body suit. Two gun holsters underneath each arm pit, and a knife sheath in each boot. Akins didn’t need anyone telling him that the corpse in front of him was a professional mercenary, but the detective was still confused by what he saw.

 

According to the officers on the scene, the body had been dredged from the water. So why did the man look as if he was taking a nap? If he was a professional mercenary and didn’t wear gloves, why weren’t his hands scarred? Small arms and the knives seemed to indicate that the man wasn’t one of the pros who sniped a target from across the street, which meant that he likely got up close and personal. Only the best fighters voided scar tissue on their hands.

 

And why no gloves? Finger printing had been a basic part of law enforcement for decades now, and was one of the easiest things to thwart. Why didn’t the deceased care about his finger prints? It only took once to get them in the system.

 

As he pondered these questions, Peter gave the suit a once over. Noticing a small cut in the uniform over the man’s heart, and another over the man’s right lung, an idea began to form in the junior detective’s mind.

 

“He’s a metahuman,” Akins said aloud.

 

“What makes you say that?” asked Alice.

 

“He’s got slices in his uniform, each one over vital organs but no blood,” explained the detective, “the body was pulled from the water but still looks fresh. No bloating at all. I think the term’s healing factor, if I remember my meta-human vocab right.”

 

“Ain’t much of a healing power if the guy’s dead,” commented one of the nearby officers.

 

“Everything has its limits, Officer Duncan,” answered Akins casually, “all the vital organs were stressed during the fight and I’d bet there was strong poison involved too. Add that to the drowning, and it’s no surprise our boy here bought it. This guy had to have put up a fight, I’d bet our department’s pension on it. But his attacker was good, probably one of the best. We probably wouldn’t recognize the original crime scene even if we walked past it. Best thing to do right now is get that stiff in the morgue, see what his body can tell us and pray we get an I.D.”

 

“You honestly think he’s in the system?” Alice asked.

 

“I hope so,” Peter sighed, “because I need something to even pretend to investigate this. Gotham’s got enough sociopaths and wackjobs, last thing we need is a freakin’ ninja doing who knows what!”  

 

&&&

 

Breakfast was a painfully quick affair. In almost no time, it seemed to Cassandra, they had finished and were making their way towards her new school. In almost no time, Tatsu had pulled into the parking lot.

 

“Here,” Tatsu handed Cassandra a tape recorder, “I know you have an excellent memory, but there's little need to stress it so early on. The battery will easily last you the entire day, so you can use it liberally.”

 

“You're not coming with?” Cassandra's eyes were as wide as saucers.

 

“I am going to meet with the staff, actually, but we both felt it was best you do this on your own.”

 

 _Traitor_ , Cassandra thought harshly.

 

“Just go to the front door. A staff member will be waiting for you.”

 

“But...”

 

Tatsu put her hand over Cassandra's. Up until now, the young woman hadn't realized how much it had been trembling, “Trust me. There are some things you will need to start doing for yourself, by yourself. Believe me, you’ll thank me in time.”

 

“Oracle used to say that…all the time,” Cassandra muttered as she got out, “still not there.”

 

Tatsu drove away, leaving Cassandra alone with her thoughts.

 

Her training kicked in automatically, observing those around her, their mannerisms, interactions, possession and whatever else her trained eye could see.

 

And in no time at all, all the people carrying thick, heavy books, talking easily amongst one another, began to whittle away at the young Bat’s self confidence. How could she ever hope to fit in a place like this, where people interacted casually and had books?

 

Almost involuntarily she began opening and closing her fists, trying to deal with the anxiety.

 

“Cassandra Cain?”

 

When someone called her name, Cass nearly jumped out of her skin. It wasn’t that they’d snuck up on her (Cassandra had seen the person walking towards her twenty seconds ago), but rather someone had pulled her out of the anonymity that had been protecting her up until now.

 

“Uhh…yes?”

 

Cassandra turned to face the women. She was dressed professional, in her early thirties with red hair pulled back in a pony tail. For a split second, Cassandra was reminded of someone else.

 

“Hi, there,” the women extended her hand in a kind gesture, “my name’s Doctor Marnie Herrs, but you can call me Marnie or Ms. Herrs, whichever you prefer. I’m here to show you around, and answer any questions you might have about your classes. I’m your counselor, so we’ll probably be seeing a lot of one another.”

 

“Counselor?” asked Cassandra, “what’s that?”

 

“We’re staff whose job is to help the students directly,” she explained politely, “what that means for you is that, if you have any problems, you can come to me and it’s my job to help you any way I can.”  


“Oh.” Suddenly, Cassandra found that the obstacles before her didn’t seem quite so insurmountable.

 

“I’ll show you around the school before I take you to your first class, okay?”

 

Cassandra nodded okay, and relaxed somewhat. This building didn’t seem nearly as mystifying, or as intimidating as it had been only minutes before. Cassandra found that she was quickly coming to trust Marnie. The way she walked, the way she carried herself, it was obvious that she cared. There was some emotional pain underneath her educated surface that Cassandra could see, but she had strength enough to deal with it effortlessly.

 

In short, Marnie Herrs was someone Cassandra instinctively trusted, gravitated to. Someone who was smart, intelligent and who had lived, in some way, what they were teaching. Cassandra thought the expression was ‘Talk the talk and walk the walk’, but she wasn’t positive.

 

Communication was never her strong point.

 

Marnie led Cassandra into the interior, showing her where the Library was located at, where the Reading Lab was situated at, and things like that. Cassandra paid close attention, and also examined her surroundings for out of the way niches where she might hide a Batgirl uniform. Trouble had a way of finding every member of the Batclan, after all and it never hurt to be prepared.

 

Slowly, Cassandra felt her initial fear beginning to trickle away. The school was slowly beginning to transform from an insurmountable obstacle to a building just like any other.

 

Until Marnie Herrs announced that one room in particular held her class, and she was to join them. Cassandra did a double take as reality seemed to slap her across the face.

 

“You want me…to go in there?” Cassandra masked her concern poorly.

 

“Normally we’d wait another day, let you start all your classes, but your guardian insisted we start today,” explained Ms. Herrs, “she said wanted to start making up for lost time as soon as possible, and I agree.”

 

“But...but...” Cassandra struggled to come up with some excuse that spared her dignity. Nothing was forthcoming.

 

“The teacher knows to expect you and won't call on you for answers,” Ms. Herrs assured her, “you'll just have to sit and listen. That's nothing you can't do. I'll find you afterwards, alright?”

 

“...fine,” Cassandra murmured. In the back of her mind, she just knew that Tatsu was having a great time somewhere.

 

&&&

 

“...seppuku would be preferable to this,” Tatsu rubbed the bridge of her nose, her eyes dry from hours upon dreary hours of reading and signing agreements, “childbirth isn't half this annoying!”

 

“If I had a nickel for every time I heard that,” chuckled Dr. La Grieves, “I understand how this can be tired, but the school insists on these confidentiality agreements, and such. Thomas Wayne High School, under a mandate by Bruce Wayne himself, is completely devoted to reaching out to children who have scarred, or worse, by the madmen that seem to dominate this era.”

 

“I understand that, but why all the confidentiality agreements?”

 

“There are some thugs and sociopaths who may object to their...work being undone,” explained the Doctor, “so we intend to fly under the radar as much as possible. Thanks to the money and influence of Mr. Wayne, we can do just that. Accredited professionals know of us. The media and world at large, do not and we actually have a firm employed to keep it that way. An anti public relations firm, if you will.”

 

“What about the students?” asked Tatsu, “are all of victims of meta crimes?”

 

“No, no,” Dr. La Grieves shook his head, “as I’m sure you’ve heard, Bruce Wayne funds this school, and he’s amazingly liberal with funding. I suspect losing his parents at such a tender age made him especially sympathetic to the plight of children affected by crime.”

 

Tatsu had to cough to avoid laughing. Dr. La Grieve continued,

 

“Because of our funding, we can attract some of the very best in education. In addition, our counselor division is its own separate department. Unlike most public schools, our counselor only have to juggle a maximum of ten students and we have a ratio of twenty students per teacher.

 

“However, Mr. Wayne believes, and I agree, that the students would suffer if the school was stigmatized as simply a place for freaks. So while students like Cassandra are granted automatic entry, we hold a lottery for others. And then…there are others,” the Doctor removed his glasses and examined them for a moment.

 

“Others?”

 

“Just like any other school, some people see what we offer in terms of special education, and see only how they can exploit for their child, whether they need it or not,” explained La Grieve, irritation slipping into his tone of voice, “we do our best to keep them out, but some spoiled brats will always slip beneath our radar.”

 

&&&

 

“Ms. Tapscott, would you care to explain the answer?”

 

Jackie Tapscott, dyed blond and wearing the latest in superficial fashions, simply rolled her eyes and said, “Why’re you always calling on me? Why not call the new girl? She retarded or something?”

 

Cassandra felt her blood run cold as she was pulled from her (barely) comfortable anonymity as the entire class laughed at her. In truth, there was barely a slight chuckle, but Cassandra was no less mortified.

 

“I’ve seen your writing, Ms. Tapscott. So I can say with some confidence that you have no right to comment on the intelligence of others.” answered the teacher. The entire class laughed louder than before, though Jackie just rolled her eyes and continued chewing her gum. The teacher moved on quickly enough, but Cass wasn’t satisfied.

 

Sparing a glance at the girl, (who wasn’t even focusing on her anymore, the little…tramp, was that what Oracle called Huntress? Yes, the girl was a tramp.) Cassandra decided she was due some payback.

 

In her tour of the school, Cass had liberated a number 2 pencil from the library and pocketed it instinctively. She had done so because the end was sharp and the eraser was unused. As a throwing weapon, it was perfectly balanced and having it concealed on her person, gave her a certain amount of confidence, something the day had been lacking in.

 

But now, it would serve a different purpose.

 

Breaking off the end with the eraser, Cassandra casually looked around the room, taking note of everything from the make of the wall to the alertness of each student. Then, as she saw the teacher begin to take on an important part of the lesson, Cass snapped her hand to the side.

 

No one saw it happen, but the small, half end of the pencil was sent flying towards the wall. The rubber of the eraser struck the smooth, painted walls at an odd angle and ricocheted.

 

“Gah! Son of a…” Jackie Tapscott let loose a string of profanity as she grabbed her head. The entire class stopped and stared at her.

 

“Is there a problem, Ms. Tapscott?” asked the teacher.

 

“Something hit me!” Jackie shrieked.

 

“Is that so?”

 

“Yes, I swear!” She quickly looked around for the offending object, but saw nothing.

 

It never occurred to her to look in her backpack, but then Cassandra had left nothing to chance. She might find the eraser bit if she ever cleaned out her backpack but that wouldn’t be for a while, if at all.

 

Several frantic seconds passed, and Jackie found she was unable to turn up any evidence.

 

“It happened!” she declared frantically.

 

“Well, we can talk about it after class. Now, as I was saying…”

 

The class returned its attention back to the teacher, though Cassandra allowed Jackie to see the edge of smirk as she turned back around. Cassandra savored the taste of her minor victory, honor now avenged.

 

&&&

 

When lunch came around, Cassandra once again found herself at a loss at what to do. Tatsu had been kind enough to pack her a lunch, Cassandra really had no idea where she was supposed to eat it.

 

The way everyone moved, it was clear there was at least some social expectation of where one was supposed to eat their food. People of similar clothing and body type seemed to clustered together. Those who defied that pattern where clearly friends, or associates at least.

 

Frankly, Cass was at a loss at what to do. Finally, in what she viewed as an example of personal cowardice, she settled on a table towards the back where only a few people were sitting with the tail end deserted.

 

Cassandra unpacked her lunch, trying hard not to reflect on her loneliness. As was too often the case, she only knew when something was wrong, but she really didn’t have any idea how to make it right.

 

Like always.

 

Cassandra had barely unpacked her lunch when…

 

“You’re a new face hear, aren’t you? I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen you around.”

 

Cassandra looked up and saw a young woman and almost instantly her mind began appraising her. She wore dark clothes, walked with a metal crutch on one hand, a lunch bag in the other. Light skin, brown hair and green eyes, Cass’ instincts drifted back to someone else for a brief second.

 

Then she snapped back to reality and her current situation.

 

“…sorry, I’ll move,” Cassandra offered in a low, polite tone.

 

“Never said you had to do that,” the girl sat down next to her, and suddenly Cassandra had never felt more uncomfortable in her life.

 

“The name’s Zoe,” stated the other girl, “so are you actually new here, or have I missed you before?”

 

“Uhh…new. First day.” Cassandra stated quickly.

 

“What ya in for?”

 

“‘In for’?” Cassandra looked at her curiously.

 

“You’re starting too late in the semester to be a lottery winner or new student. Ergo, like most of us, a medical transfer. So what’re you in for? I know I’m prying, but trust me, it’s better to get ahead of the rumors.”

 

Cassandra could see no deception in the girl’s body, so she saw no reason to lie. Well, more so.

 

“Bludhaven bombing. I have…amnesia, as a result. And other stuff.”

 

“Sounds bad. I’m hear because I’ve got some Joker toxin lingering in my bloodstream that the doctors can’t cure. It gives me fits sometimes, but instead of seizures, I have laugh attacks,” Zoe shrugged, but not half as casually as her tone of voice would suggest. Cassandra saw, easily, a powerful undertone of fear and anticipation.

 

“Oh.” Cassandra didn’t know how to really respond, so she went with the bare minimum.

 

“Huh. You’re the first one not to freak,” Zoe smiled and Cassandra could all but see the relief in her body, “you either got guts or don’t know what I’m talking about.”

 

Cass shrugged, and though she knew better than to give away too much about her other life, simply said, “Joker doesn’t bother me much.”

 

Unfortunately, further conversation was interrupted when two boys, of above average height sauntered over.

 

“Hey, Joker’s Daughter, you bugging her?”

 

Cassandra saw Zoe recoil, however slightly, from the comment, and inwardly the young Bat seethed.

 

“Yeah, she bugging you?” parroted the other boy.

 

Cassandra looked at the two like they were something she’d scrapped off the bottom of her shoe, “No, you are. Leave.”

 

The boy’s body language instantly from friendly to aggressive, clearly offended by the fact that the girl they were ‘rescuing’ would dare talk back to them in that fashion. Naturally, Cassandra didn’t feel the least bit threatened, not only because of her night time calling, but because she could see an even bigger boy coming up behind these two who clearly intended her no harm.

 

“Hey guys!” The boy, standing six feet with a few inches to spare and muscles that equaled the average henchman, grabbed the two who’d been annoying Cassandra and Zoe in a head lock and slowly walked towards the end of the table with each in toe.

 

“Hey guys. Thanks for keeping my friend company, but sense I’m here now you two can go do what ya, okay?”

 

Properly cowed, the bigger boy allowed them to go on their way, and he sat down at the lunch table with them. As he sat down, the entire bench shook from his weight (which silently told Cassandra that his bulk was mostly muscle, not fat) and he leaned backwards against the table, slouching in the bench.

 

Almost instantly, Cassandra found she liked the boy. His mannerism, his body tone, all were very kind and she suspected that he came to this table willingly, because no one else was here.

 

“My knight in casual wear,” Zoe rolled her eyes, “you didn’t have to do that, Josh.”

 

“Some jerks need to know that there’s someone bigger and better than them,” explained the boy. He then looked to at Cassandra curiously, as if her presence had just registered.

 

“Name’s Josh Clark,” he extended his hand in a friendly gesture and Cassandra took it instinctively. It dwarfed hers, “you are…?”

 

“Cassandra Cain,” Cass answered. It occurred to her that this had been the first time she’d stated her full name, ever, to anyone who didn’t already know it.

 

“Nice to meet you, Cass. I’m guessing this is your first day?”

 

“Pig,” Zoe muttered as she took a bite from her lunch.

 

“But an open and fair one,” Josh answered back, “so, what’re you in for? Somethin’ cool, I hope!”

 

“Josh! Tact, damn it!”

 

“It’s alright,” Cassandra reassured them, though she didn’t really know how true her words were. Regardless, she explained her ‘plight’, as it was told to her.

 

Lunch ended too quickly, and soon Cassandra found herself shuffled to another class where she had little idea what was being taught to another, all by the ever present and polite Ms. Herrs. She collected books from each class, each scarier than the last and by the time the final bell rang, Cassandra released a loud sigh of relief.

 

Almost running, she made her way to where Tatsu was supposed to pick her up, when Jackie Tapscott stepped in front of her.

 

“Hey, Cassandra! Look, I want to apologize about history class today, I was out of line. I was wondering if you…”

 

Jackie’s statement instantly transformed into white noise for Cassandra. For someone who could see perfectly the implications of the slightest muscle tension, Jackie’s fake white smile might have well as been a neon sign. And since Cassandra estimated she had a few minutes until she had to meet Tatsu, she decided that she’d play the girl’s game for some amusement to redeem an otherwise terrible day.

 

As Jackie explained it, there was something that was, according to her ‘pretty cool' that the teachers kept hidden from the students in one of the back rooms. That just happened to be out of the way, where no one else was. Right.

 

The day had slowly whittled away Cass' confidence in her own intelligence, but it hadn't fallen so far that a stuck up little girl would hope to fool her.

 

When Jackie asked Cassandra to open room door while she played look-out, Cass struck.

 

With speed Jackie had no way of predicting, Cass grabbed Jackie by the wrist, opened the door and shoved her through before she closed it again. There was a loud splash, followed by some profanity and rushed apologies.

 

Removing her math book from her backpack, Cass strolled into the room as if she hadn't a care in the world.

 

“Hmm, nothing cool here.” she observed. Jackie, along with three of her fellow gang members (at least, that was what Cassandra regarded them as. Punks were punks no matter how expensive their clothing, as far as she was concerned). She saw one that was carrying a bucket, most likely taken from the janitor's closet and probably not filled with strictly water.

 

“You enjoy your bath?” Cassandra asked Jackie casually, as if nothing were amiss.

 

“You bitch! Get her!”

 

 _Yes, definitely a gang,_ Cassandra thought to herself. The girl with the bucket had the bright idea to throw the thing at Cassandra, but a simple kick (nothing too impressive that might tip her hand) redirected into the head of another girl.

 

One down.

 

Another stepped forward, but Cass used her impressive math book as a fly swatter. The girl wasn't knocked out, but the blow was enough to keep her from trying that again. After that, all it took was a stern look to discourage the last one from attempting anything. She then turned her attention to Jackie, who was utterly dumbfounded by what had just happened.

 

“I’m not impressed,” Cassandra said simply, and then walked out.

 

&&&

 

The drive home was largely silent. Cassandra was reflecting on the day’s events while Tatsu was just counting her blessings that she didn’t have to sign anymore agreements. But eventually, curiosity won out over exhaustion.

 

“How was your first day?”

 

“Long. They gave me books,” Cassandra answered, a slight tremor in her voice.

 

“I’ll help you with those,” Tatsu said quickly, “anything else?”

 

“I…think I made some friends,” Cassandra confessed.

 

“Really? Wonderful!”

 

“When do I have to go back?”

 

“Tomorrow. And the day after that. Five days a week, Little Butterfly.”

 

Cassandra threw her head back and laughed. She hadn’t seen Tatsu answer her as she was looking straight ahead at the time.

 

“No, really. When do I go back?”

 

 **Next Issue:** North Gotham is Cassandra to protect, and to do that she needs a network, sources and a working knowledge of what is happening on the ground. Some familiar faces show up as Cassandra begins her work! 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**DC Infinity Presents**

**Batgirl # 7**

**All in a Lifetime's Work**

**Part3**

_Cassandra's Cave_

Tatsu, garbed in her usual heroine attire as that of Katana, felt the sword in her hand, checking it's balance, examining the make of the steel. Forged in modern metals by a Japanese family of weapons-smiths that dated back centuries, Tatsu knew that the sword she held in her hand would have been the envy of her warrior ancestors and was one of the most deadly weapons in Gotham. It was perfect in every way a sword could be...yet that didn't make it feel right in her hands.

 

It was only natural, Tatsu supposed, that she'd miss the sword she'd been using almost the entirety of her career as Katana. This one was heavier, be it only by a few ounces, and didn't carry a fraction of the power her original did. But then again, it didn't have to. She was retired, after all and this one would do in a pinch.

 

Tatsu swung the sword, taking it's measure. Silently, she moved through several katas, fighting back silent enemies in her mind, practicing until her sword was simply a lethal extension of her own body.

 

Just as Tatsu has finished, she sensed a silent presence approaching her from the rear. With fluid grace, she spun around, swinging her sword downwards, then up stopping barely a hair's breath away from the young woman's chin.

 

Cassandra Cain, dressed in her full Batgirl costume, didn't so much as flinch.

 

“You're ready.”

 

Tatsu was amazed how Cassandra, just like her mentor, could make such a statement of fact while at the same time, making it an order well. Tatsu found that it rubbed her the wrong way now as it did with Bruce, but decided to let it slide for tonight, at least for now.

 

“It's a good night for a family evening together, don't you think?”

 

Cassandra stood there for a moment, as if for a loss for words. For a long moment, she looked as if she might reply, but instead turned on her heels and strode towards the exit.

 

Katana steathed her sword and followed her adopted daughter out, “Lovely night for a casual stroll.”

 

&&&

 

The 86 Avenue Killers heard their front door smash open from where they were playing poker in the kitchen, and instantly assumed it was a raid.

 

As three time losers, bail jumpers and parole violators all, the gang had long ago vowed as one not to go into the night without a fight.

 

They came barreling out of the kitchen and into the living room, ready for the worst. They were shocked by what they saw, which they had expected to be a SWAT team waiting for them, but instead found a slender young girl, dressed in black and wearing an emblem feared across the Gotham underworld.

 

Batgirl stood atop ‘The Big B’, one of their steroid abusing and the splintered remains of their front door. Her stance was casual, dismissive. With a nod of her hand, she beckoned the group of five forward before flipping backwards out the door.

 

“Get ‘er!” Several men yelled at once.

 

Cassandra landed on the lawn, skidding to a halt and waited patiently for her first opponent.

 

The first man was a short, pug nosed man with more facial hair than brains. He waited until his feet hit the lawn before drawing his usually large piece and taking aim at the young vigilante.

 

Batgirl was within arm’s length almost instantly. With uncanny speed, she reached out with her right hand and switched on the gun’s safety. Her left arm then came down on the man’s inner elbow while her right hand guided the man’s hand, and gun, into his face. A loud -whack!- was heard, and the man then fell to the ground unconscious.

 

The next man came at her with his fists alone, unwilling to believe that such a slender girl was a match for him. Standing six feet tall and having more muscles than brains, he would have been right in any other.

 

Batgirl feigned a duck to the left, and when her foe threw his punch, went to the right and struck a nerve bundle just under his armpit with her straightened fingers. The man cried out in pain and swung his arm backwards, hoping to catch Batgirl.

 

Cassandra casually ducked under the swing, and slammed her flattened palm into the center of the man’s chest, followed up by a blow to his liver and ended with a swift round house kick to the face. The thug fell backwards like a brick wall, and didn’t get back up.

 

The last three men rushed onto the lawn and surrounded Batgirl. Two of them, brothers who had seen their fair share of trouble side by side, moved against her as one.

 

Batgirl met their charge easily. Stepping towards the brother on her right, Cassandra lashed out with both her left foot and fist, catching each brother in the face and breaking their nose at the exact same instant. With both men distracted by blood and pain of their bleeding noses, Cassandra was free to pick her targets casually.

 

Focusing on one brother, Cassandra released a series of rabbit punches so quickly, no human eye would have been able count how many landed. Just as the first brother was beginning to fall, Cassandra swung her first around with all her strength, connecting with the second brother's jaw and rendering him instantly unconscious.

 

Then, in one fluid motion, Cassandra removed two Bataranges from her belt, and gripped them in her fists so that only the bladed ends were still visible. Turning towards the final gang member, Cassandra crossed her arms across her chest, making it appear as if she might let her weapons fly at any moment.

 

Johnny 'Spider', to his credit, managed to retain both control of his senses and bladder as he watched Batgirl utterly demolish his gang. He'd drawn his old pistol and had a bead on Batgirl, but fear kept him from pulling the trigger. At first, it was fear of hitting his friends. Now, it was fear of missing, and what she'd do with those damned batarangs when...not if, but when, he missed.

 

“Drop your weapon, and… I'll drop mine,” proposed Batgirl.

 

A bead of sweat dripped down Johnny's face, “Yeah, like you don't know a million ways to kill me with just your pinky.”

 

“Won't use my fists,” Cassandra offered, “you have my word. Drop your gun, and it's just you against my feet. Think...that you're man enough for that?”

 

Johnny snorted, clicked the safety on his weapon, and tossed it aside like a broken toy. Batgirl held her arms out to show her weapons, and then dropped them. Placing her hands behind her back, Cass smiled. Every now and then, she loved to satisfy her darker impulses on the scum of Gotham as a little treat to herself.

 

Johnny lunged forward with all the skill of a drunken brawler, throwing a better than average right hook. Cassandra's left foot came up and knocked the blow aside. Balancing on her right left, Cassandra kicked outwards with her left leg, her boot missing Johnny's face by inches.

 

But Cassandra didn't miss when she brought her foot back, hooking her leg against the back of his head. With strength that Johnny didn't think any young woman could possess, she pulled him to the ground with just her left leg and trapped him by his neck in between her legs.

 

Her grip was like iron, and it was all Johnny could do to draw breath. He never knew how dangerous one of his greatest fantasies could be up until now.

 

“This was just an object lesson,” Batgirl didn't even bother to turn her head in his direction, “you will tell....everyone...what happened here. What I did...to your crew. How easily…! it was accomplished.”

 

“Not...damn...likegahh!” Johnny struggled to breathe as Batgirl flexed her muscles ever so slightly.

 

“You should,” Batgirl informed him, “because they’ll know regardless.”

 

Johnny realized what Batgirl was talking about almost instantly. A quick glance around, even in his position, revealed that half the block had come out and had seen their fight.

 

Well, Batgirl’s fight and their utter defeat.

 

“Might want to get your own…” Cassandra paused as she almost forgot the word she had chosen, “spin…on what happened here.”

 

Batgirl released Johnny, retrieved her weapons and then slipped into the shadows.

 

Johnny climbed to his feet slowly, mindful of his unconscious friends and the crowd of neighbors that he and his gang had terrorized daily that seemed emboldened by how easily Batgirl had brought them all low.

 

Fifteen minutes later, several patrol cars pulled up to the house, with warrants for the majority of the 86 Avenue Killers. Though no one came out and said it, it was obvious to everyone who placed the call.

 

&&&

 

Katana leaned back against the edge of the roof and poured herself some tea from a canteen as she waited for Cassandra to return.

 

Not for the first time, Tatsu wondered if she was doing right by the girl, to allow her to continue to operate as a vigilante when she needed so much outside of her role as a crime fighter. To live, work and breathe as just a normal girl, not a trained fighter who prowled the city every night.

 

But at the same time, Tatsu knew that it would all but impossible to pull Cassandra away from this life. When one became a costumed hero, they assumed a burden that was all but impossible to set down again. Tatsu herself had started out as Katana to avenge her husband and children, and when that was accomplished, stayed a heroine. Part of it was because of the pain…but another issue was that she had inadvertently gained a heightened awareness of what was wrong in the world. She found that, at times, she couldn’t even watch the news without some small part of her feeling guilty for not being involved in whatever tragedy was occurring.

 

Without her primary weapon, Tatsu found retirement more tolerable than she otherwise might, but knew that such a ‘culture shock’ for Cassandra would be more than she could handle.

 

No sooner had she finished that thought, than Tatsu heard Batgirl’s boots touch down on the roof behind her.

 

“Finished?”

 

“Yes. What…what now?” Cassandra, try as she might, still found it difficult asking someone outside the Bat-family for advise. Heck, unless they were Oracle or Batman, Cass found it hard even then.

 

“Well, now that you’ve beaten the local alpha wolves for everyone to see, you need a reliable informant,” explained Tatsu, “someone close to the muscle, but one affiliated with the mob or anyone else. Good information is what determines how effective a crimefighter can be.”

 

Cassandra nodded, following the logic easily and then, begrudgingly admitted, “I don't...have an idea...of where to go.”

 

“Nor would I, if I'd spent a year in a coma,” Tatsu said, softening the blow to Cass' ego, “Gotham has changed dramatically since you last patrolled it regularly. Luckily, I asked Oracle for a possible resources. She had one suggestion in particular, that she asked us to check out. She hasn't been able to get the information that she would like, to fully understand what the situation on the ground is. So you'll have to access once inside.”  

 

“Understood.”

 

&&&

 

_Bill Silver's Gym_

“'ey yo! Bill! The damn shower's backed up again! You might wanna get off your lazy ass and fix that damn thing!”

 

Bill Silver leaned back in his chair and felt just another small part of himself just break. In the six years since he'd opened this gym, the retired boxer had found that maintaining a gym in Gotham was expensive, in both body and soul.

 

Bruce the Barracuda, big as a brick wall and twice as smart, was one of those 'expenses'. Hired as a janitor slash bouncer the 'suggestion' of a local mob guy as a favor, the muscle bound bastard rarely did a damn thing to actually clean the place.

 

To Billy, Bruce was a constant reminder of the moral compromises Gotham had forced upon his shoulders. A useless thug for a janitor, allowing streek punks to hone their muscle and fists on his equipment at a discounted cost, turning a blind eye to the steroid abuse going on in his own locker rooms and too much else.

 

Cursing both fate and himself, Billy didn't notice at first the black clad form that had strolled in the front door (which had been locked). Not until Bruce shouted, at least.

 

“..Holy...Billy! It's one o' them freaks!”

 

Billy snapped his head to the side to see Bruce charge towards the female figure and felt his heart drop in his chest. Costumed freaks always spelled property damage. He observed as Batgirl easily side stepped Bruce and began running towards one of the two boxing rings his gym had, with Bruce hot on her heels.

 

He watched as Batgirl jumped up on the edge of the ring, flipped backwards and land on Bruce's shoulder with such grace he almost thought it was rehearsed. Batgirl didn't waste a moment, bringing her elbow down with such strength and precision that with just two blows, the six foot six steroid abusing good for nothin’ fell like a cut tree.

 

Billy nearly wet himself when she turned her head towards him. But what she said next truly surprised him.

 

“You don't like what's done here...do you?”

 

“What...what're you talking about?”

 

Batgirl gave him a scathing look that to cut him to the quick.

 

“You know.”

 

Billy shook his head and looked towards the ground, “This is Gotham, lady. Ain't nothing I can do about it, even if I wanna.”

 

“There is,” Batgirl corrected, “you can help me. They don't notice you...do they?”

 

“Ha! They act like I'm not there!” Billy did the math instantly, “and that works just alright for you, don't it?”

 

Batgirl nodded.

 

“You got yourself a deal, sweetheart. You'd be shocked how much I hear these bastards talk shop. I seem to think I’m deaf! Hell, if you want, I'll show you wear you can place some bugs!”

 

Batgirl reached into her belt and pressed a button, “This man is wanted. Anyone asks...that's why I came.”

 

“Sounds great to me! How do I contact you?”

 

Batgirl turned on her heels, “You won't. I'll contact you.”

 

As he watched Batgirl leave, Billy felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. No longer was he passively contributing to the decay of the town of his birth. Now, he was actually part of the solution!

 

Suddenly, that simple clog didn't seem so bad.

 

&&&

 

Arthur Brown, once known as the third string villain Cluemaster, spared a glance over his shoulder as he shuffled down the dark alley, more out of habit than genuine fear. He now found that, unlike the old days, a small part of him wished that he actually was being followed, that there was creepy night time vigilante waiting to beat him up.

 

Anything to lessen the guilt.

 

Finally, he reached his destination. He knocked twice, waited ten seconds, and knocked one final time.

 

“Password?” shouted someone through the door.

 

“Scarface,” Arthur replied humorlessly. The password was obviously mocking, referring to the web of scars across his face. The scars were so thick and heavy, they were actually an effective disguise from those who knew his face before the…accident.

 

Still, Arthur knew he had no right to complain about the password. He was the one who chose it, after all.

 

“Come on in, boss man!”

 

The boy (he wasn't a man until he did time, as far as Arthur was concerned) waved him in eagerly. The three other members of his crew were standing around their meeting table, looking over the blue prints he'd had them steal.  

 

Ironically, Arthur couldn't remember a time when he was more successful, now that his daughter was dead and Gotham's night protectors had their attention turned...elsewhere. There was a wide margin between failure and infamy that would bring heroes down upon your head.

 

Naturally, with that frame of mind, Brown didn't even bother look towards the shadows and thus, missed the single one that moved.

 

The crew looked towards Arthur with a rare amount of respect and energy, but despite himself the former Cluemaster found he couldn't return a fraction of it. He was living, if it could truly be called that, on autopilot, returning to the only thing he really knew.

 

 

“Alright, what do we have here,” Brown looked over the plans for first Nation Bank of Gotham, his first 'big job' with this gang, and almost instantly, his mind had created a half dozen plans for cleaning the place out. Some better than others obviously, but all of them better than anything this collection of thugs could create.

 

“How much is the loot gonna be from this thing, do you think?” asked one member.

 

Brown sighed. It was never a good thing when they focused on the cash first, and not the job. It always led to problems.

 

Still, Arthur couldn't bring himself to care beyond an intellectual level. Freedom, prison, what was the difference to a man who had everything one who no longer had anything to lose.

 

Had his heart been in his business, he would have been instantly suspicious when the lights began to flicker for a few moments, then finally failed.  

 

“Man...”

 

“This never happens in the movies, man,” joked one man.

 

“No it doesn't,” offered a new voice. The lights flickered back to life, revealing a Batgirl sitting on their planning table in a lotus position, “but in Gotham...it's only a matter of time.”

 

Action is faster than reaction. It's a law of physics.

 

That's something Cassandra used to full effect as the thugs surrounding her still processed the fact that a Bat was in their midst. Pushing down and balancing on her hands, Cassandra lashed out with her feet, slamming her steel heeled boots into the men on each side of her. She then swung her legs around to disable man number three, and by the time the fourth and final man had gotten around to reaching for his weapon, Cassandra had already removed a batarange and sent it flying towards his skull.

 

Glancing around, Cassandra saw that Arthur Brown had actually made it ten feet towards the door, towards relative freedom.

 

A smile passed across her lips.

 

&&&

 

Arthur Brown ran with a belly full of anger, unwilling to be taken in by those God damned Bats. As he reached the mouth of the alley, he actually believed for a split second that he might actually escape their wrath.

 

He had taken only a single step onto the sidewalk before he felt a cord wrap around his ankle, and pulled tight.

 

“No!”

 

The once costumed villain fell forward hard, painfully. He didn't notice at first how he was being pulled back into the alley, like a fish caught on a hook.

 

But then he remembered Stephanie, he remembered his shame and he remembered his rage.

 

“You think you're going to throw me in jail! You think you have any right to judge me, to punish me!”

 

Batgirl allowed Brown to climb to his feet and come courageously close. She knew, even without paying attention to what his body was saying, that he thought words were his most dangerous weapons.

 

“People like you killed my daughter! What right do you have to destroy my life even more!”

 

Batgirl could feel his hot breath on her face, and remembering her friend, his daughter, she found that she really, really wanted to let her control slip, and introduce this man to all the thousands of ways she knew to cripple, or even worse.

 

But then, Cluemaster wasn't the only one who could use words as a weapon.

 

“She wasn't out there because of me,” Batgirl said simply. Cluemaster flinched backwards, as if struck.

 

“I worked with her. Protected her. Trained her. But never once...did I force her to go out.”

 

Arthur's eyes began to water, “Don't you talk like you knew her...”

 

“You locked her in a closet...as a child,” Batgirl countered, “she remembered that...very well.”

 

Brown slumped to his knees sobbing, no longer able to maintain the facade of an outraged parent. An exceptionally intelligent man, Brown knew each and every instance of abuse and neglect he'd heaped on his now dead daughter. Those long sixteen years of memories hit him all at once, too much for any sane man to bear.

 

“What...what do you want with me?” he finally asked.

 

“You're a good...” Cassandra tried to remember the word, “resource. Sharp mind. You know Gotham. I could use that.”

 

“...why?”

 

Batgirl allowed the question to hang in the air for a moment, as she took out her grappling hook and fired it at the nearest building.

 

“I couldn't save her. The least I could do for her now...is save you.”

 

&&&

 

Batgirl landed in front of Katana in a crouch. Cass took a moment to access her guardian’s mood before she reported.

 

“It’s done.”

 

Tatsu nodded silently.

 

“You’re concerned…about something.”

 

“Always,” answered Tatsu, “in fact, it’s one of my jobs now.”

 

“No, about this. About him.”

 

Tatsu thought about her answer carefully before replying, “Yes, I am. To be blunt Cassandra, when I suggested you find help understanding the sociopaths that infest Gotham, I wanted you to go to Nightwing, or perhaps Oracle. I didn’t mean for you to go to Cluemaster.”

 

“It’s spent time in Arkum,” Cassandra defended, “he’s sane enough to recognize the patterns to their insanity.”

 

“I know, but…”

 

“I also meant what I said. If I couldn’t save her, then I need to save him.”

 

Tatsu paused, then sighed, “That’s another concern of mine. You’ve seen a lot in your time Cassandra. But I doubt that even you, and I hope you never do, can understand the grief of a parent who has lost a child. It burns white hot, and can lead to hasty choices without regards to consequences. His guilt can turn to anger instantly.”

 

“I’ll know,” Batgirl replied, “but I have to… chance it. Besides…he can’t lie to me.”

 

Batgirl was a little surprised to see the pride in Tatsu’s smile as she nodded in agreement.

 

“That’s very true. Still, that’s enough business for tonight. Lets head home.”

 

Batgirl shook her head, “I’ve barely started patrol.”

 

“You have school tomorrow,” Tatsu replied, “we’ve stayed out too long as is. Remember, so long as I’m responsible for you, you’ll follow my rules.”

 

Katana turned away and began sprint across the roof top, towards home. Batgirl bristled for a moment, but followed the elder heroine.

 

This time.

 

&&&

 

_23 rd Gotham Precinct  _

Detective Peter Akins glanced over his paper work for the third time, making sure it was up to police department standards. It wasn’t as if he was a perfectionist, but with a ‘cape case’ hanging over his head and forensics not yet back, it was all he could do.

 

As if in answer to his prayers, the phone rang.

 

“Akins!”

 

“Hey Pete! It’s Abby!” Peter rolled his eyes, as if anyone could forget their metahuman forensic scientist. In high demand and short supply, Abby was one of three such scientists that Gotham had managed to lure in.

 

And naturally, anyone who was so fascinated with the meta-human world…wasn’t all there in the head, no matter how smart.

 

“Got my results for me?”

 

“Sure do, buddy! You sitting down?”

 

“I’m at my desk.”

 

That doesn’t mean you’re sitting down! Lots of people stand at their desk! I don’t even have a chair here! Not because I hate them, ‘cause I don’t but because…”

 

“Abby…” Peter sighed.

 

“Oh, right! The results!” The Detective could hear Abby chew her lip, trying to explain her findings in plain English, “Well, the good news is that we got a hit on both the DNA and finger prints. We…kinda have a positive ID.”

 

“And the bad news?”

 

“The finger prints and DNA all match 23 other corpses found around the world,” Abby explained.

 

It took the Detective a moment to process that fact.

 

“How…how is that even possible?”

 

“They’re real, honest to God clones!” Abby answered, “All of one guy, a famous World War Two hero, Paul DeKirk, went by the name Manhunter. There were several other bodies just like this one, found dead on the east coast. Hell, one of the stiffs was killed just outside of Gotham a couple of years ago!”

 

“I don’t suppose there’s anything on the body to indicate what they were doing in Gotham?”

 

“’Fraid not,” Abby admitted, “but Pete? Cloned super soldiers lurking in the city and being mysteriously killed off? You don’t need to be a detective to know that means nothing good.”

 

Next issue: ‘Nature’s War’ begins as two factions begin a war in Gotham. One side is trying to resurrect an old evil, another side is trying to stop them. But Cassandra isn’t sure what side she’s on!

 


	9. Chapter 9

**DC Infinity Presents**

**Batgirl # 8**

**Nature’s War**

**Part 1**

**Out of the Bottle…**

_Thomas_ _Wayne High School_

 

“…and everyone remember, your work sheet is due next class,” Professor Lutz opened the door and said, to the audible relief of most everyone present, “Dismissed!”

 

The school day finally over, some eighteen students all but ran out of the class room, eager to be anywhere but here.

 

Cassandra Cain, however, was the exception. She remained in the room, silently, using every last ounce of training she’d received at the tutelage of both David Cain and The Batman to remain unnoticed despite the fact that she was the only other person in the entire room, sitting in plain sight.

 

As a matter of fact, Cassandra might not have been discovered at all if she hadn’t, consciously, cleared her throat only moments before the teacher had finished packing away his papers.

 

“Oh, Cassandra!” The Professor took a moment to compose himself, startled and more than a little surprised to find that he wasn’t alone in the room and hadn’t even noticed it, “I didn’t see you there. How can I help you?”

 

Cass took a moment to swallow her pride, “I…would like to hand in…the sheet. Do the assignment. Please…?”

 

For a moment mixed with equal parts fear and pride, Cassandra could see how her teacher was proud of her. Though she feared failing the assignment, it did Cass’ self esteem wonders that her teacher might actually be proud of her in some way, no matter how small.

 

But that moment broke, and Cassandra could see him answer no before the words left his mouth.

 

“I appreciate that you’re willing to do the same work that other students are doing Cassandra, but that’s not your education plan,” explained the Professor, “finishing the assignment isn’t what you need to be doing, there are other parts of your education you need to be focusing on more.”

 

“But…I can do it!” Cassandra asserted, more out of misplaced pride than conviction.

 

“If that’s true, then there’s no point in you completing the assignment,” observed Professor Lutz, “if I were you, I’d focus on my other studies so that you can do the assignments in the future, okay?”

 

“I…,” Cassandra tried to come up with a counter argument, but that little bit of fear that she might actually win, and be required to finish the work sheet (and then fail amazingly) was all it took to keep her from creating even the most simple of sentences, “…okay.”

 

Cassandra grabbed her backpack and slinked out of the room, shoulders slumped in defeat.

 

A big part of her really wanted to be allowed to do the assignment, to be held to the same standards as everyone else. Cassandra loathed the fact that she was held to a different bar than other students, but at the same time, she found it relieving. Could she, would she ever meet those basic standards?

 

“Hey Cass! Class is over, you’re supposed to be giddy!” Josh Clark was all smiles as he strode towards his friend, “you wanna join me and Zoe in the library?”

 

Cass stole a glance at her watch, and saw that she had some time until Tatsu picked her up and little else to do, “…sure.”

 

“How’re your classes going?”

 

Josh asked casually, but Cass still felt too embarrassed to answer with anything other than, “Going…okay. Teachers are nice.”

 

“Well, hopefully they’ll get a personality soon,” Josh remarked as they entered the library. He looked around for a moment before spotting their friend, and in a voice completely inappropriate for a library, yelled, “Hey good lookin’!

 

“…I swear I’ll kill you one day,” muttered Zoe. Though she was by no means shy, she didn’t much care to be the center of attention either.

 

“Can you do it after you help me with my English paper?” Josh imitated a puppy dog expression half heartily, “pretty please?”  

 

“Oh spare me,” Cassandra slid into the farthest seat at the table, unnoticed as she intended. Pulling out her math book and assignment from that class (her math teacher actually allowed her to complete some assignments. She didn’t know what to make of that, yet), she sat off to the side, listening to her friends talk.

 

“So, what exactly is your English assignment?” Zoe asked.

 

“I gotta write what I think about the whole ‘Nature vs. Nurture’ debate.”

 

“Well, what do you think?”

 

A shrug, “Dunno.”

 

“…thank you kindly for enforcing jock stereotypes for another two decades.”

 

Cassandra found herself listening to the conversation despite the fact she wanted to very much be anywhere else but here, listening to her friends (unknowingly) debating and passing judgment on her life and potential.

 

“How extreme are the cases you’re allowed to use as an example?”

 

“He said we could use any example we wanted or could think of.”

 

“Well, I guess you could use some examples to chew on. Let’s start off with an example of nurturing… to use the word liberally. There was this one case with this girl now called Genie…ya know, the whole bottle thing. She was locked up in a room by her father since she was twenty months old. She was still a baby when he basically shut her out of the larger world…”

 

Cassandra’s discomfort with the conversation quickly sky rocketed. Unbidden, memories of her childhood slid past her conscious mind, all of them happy. But she was smart enough to know that’s not the way things should have been.

 

“Wait, he locked her up in a room as a little baby?”

 

“Her dad was a real freakin’ monster, yeah. Can you imagine any father who would do that to their own child? To completely seal their kid off from the world?” Zoe asked, completely rhetorically, “unfortunately, being a parent doesn’t automatically make someone any less abusive.”

 

Cassandra bit her lip and wished she knew a way to turn off the part of her training that made her listen to everyone and everything within earshot, now listening almost unwillingly. Images of David Cain hovered at the edges of her mind.

 

“Her father never really talked to her once, just barked at her like an animal and kept her locked in a small room until she was thirteen years old. He never talked to her, never allowed her mom or brother to see her, nothing. He kept her completely isolated, and she never learned to talk or express herself.”

 

“I really don’t think that’s a good case to use.”

 

“Well, like I said it’s an extreme case,” Zoe replied, “I mean, after that much abuse and parents as screwed up as hers, it’s not like she had a lot of hope for a good life to begin with, unfortunately.”

 

Cassandra, her self esteem already holding on by a thread and unable to bear the discussion a moment longer, stood up so quickly she accidently banged the table with her knees, instantly drawing her friends attention. Scrambling to put her things back, she squeaked out, “I have to go.”

 

“Uhh…okay. Oh yeah!” Josh snapped his fingers, “girls basket ball try-outs are in two weeks, Cass. You ought to give it a shot!”

 

“Josh, she’s busy enough as is!” Zoe snapped.

 

“Hey, it’s not the SATs!”  

 

“Damn it, Josh!”

 

Cassandra hurried away, the guilt of making her friends fight over her only compounding her misery. She exited the school and wondered around the school parking lot, waiting for Tatsu.

 

…who had already arrived, Cassandra noted sourly.

 

Cassandra made a point to approach with all possible stealth, and unsurprisingly managed to startle Tatsu when she grabbed the door and swung it open.

 

“You forgot to call,” Cassandra said sharply.

 

“Slipped my mind,” Tatsu replied evenly, well aware Cassandra could detect any lies, “have you completed your homework?”

 

“Yes,” answered Cassandra, her voice revealing far more distress than she intended.

 

“Anything you’d like to talk about?” asked Tatsu, concerned.

 

“No, nothing,” answered Cassandra vehemently.

 

“We’ll talk later then,” Tatsu reached into the backseat and pulled out a small laptop. Handing it to Cassandra, she said, “Oracle has a mission for you.”

 

Cassandra’s attitude brightened considerably as she flipped the laptop open, and saw Barbara Gordon’s face looking back.

 

“Hey, Cass! How was school?”

 

“…fine.”

 

“That bad, huh?” Oracle’s voice was sympathetic, but Cass still didn’t want to hear it right now, “well, I’ve got something to take your mind off it. Over the last couple of days, one Lexcorp building has been cutting back security guard shifts and cutting back on allowed overtime. By itself, that’s not significant but this has happened several times in the past right before break ins…”

 

“Luthor allows them in,” Cassandra knew instinctively that no one robbed a man of Lex Luthor’s statue on a regular basis without his permission. He’d make object lessons of them on principle, “…but why?”

 

“Hard to say,” Oracle replied, “Lexcorp’s been dealing with secret, black-ops projects for decades now, but when Luthor was publically exposed, a lot of those projects were suspended by the government following inspections that are still pending.”

 

“They want to avoid embarrassment,” Cassandra said evenly.

 

“Right. And Luthor, in response, has been allowing people to break into his buildings and make off with classified projects,” explained Oracle, “that’s bad enough on its own, but something else popped on the radar that may be related. A meta-human corpse was found some ten blocks from Gotham’s main Lexcorp research building. The DNA matched that of Paul Kirk, a deceased hero. The body was obviously a clone, and Paul Kirk clones were used exclusively by the Council as muscle.”

 

Cassandra searched her memory and came up blank. Not wanting to start a mission without all relevant information, without the slightest bit of embarrassment she asked, “What are The Council?”

 

“Who are,” Oracle corrected, “Or in this case, who were. They were a leftist extremist group built around eight scientists. They rescued a World War Two hero by the name of Paul Kirk, Manhunter, after a hunting accident and saved his life, even going so far as to give him an accelerated healing ability.”

 

“They wanted him to act as…their agent,” deduced Cassandra easily. While the motives of Gotham’s sociopaths and themed maniacs sometimes eluded her, the working minds of professional criminals was second nature to her.

 

She was trained by one of the finest criminals alive, after all.

 

“Right. They also cloned him, using his DNA to create their foot soldiers. Manhunter eventually rebelled and along with Batman and some other allies, stopped the Council. Their base was destroyed and at the time, they were thought completely destroyed. However, they turned up again later, this time using clones of the villain Sportsmaster and employing a genetically engineered woman called Nemesis, who like Manhunter turned against them. This time, they were put down brutally by Nemesis’ new allies, Black Adam and a few others about a year and a half ago.”

 

“How did they survive?” asked Cassandra.

 

“We still don’t know, actually. Batman himself even red marked the file, the first time around.”

 

Cassandra hid her surprise. ‘Red Marked’ in the Batclan generally meant that the case was all but closed. Batman, or someone he trusted, had launched follow up investigations or examined the scene, and determined that the possibility of return was unlikely, even in the world they lived in.

 

Batman wasn’t infallible, Cassandra knew that, but she was still surprised that an organization as large and influential as The Council had somehow returned without even Batman having a single suspicion of their return.

 

“So they may be returning again,” Cassandra mused aloud.

 

“Or they’ve already have, and are dealing with Luthor,” Oracle relied, “either way, we need to know.”

 

“Anymore information about… the dead clone?”

 

“No, the medical examiner is amazingly slow putting his final reports into the data base. The preliminary reports indicate the killings were done with some skill, though.”

 

“Understood. Name and address of the invest…investing…”

 

“Investigating detective,” Oracle finished, “it’ll be on your cave computer in a second, along with directions to his residence.”

 

As the car pulled into the driveway, Cassandra could almost feel all her worries and weaknesses melt away.

 

&&&

 

Peter Akins hummed himself a little tune as the microwave prepared his popcorn. His shift had finished little less than two hours ago and he had an entire weekend to unwind, and being a Gotham City police officer, Peter knew he’d need every second.

 

True, the Detective still had dreaded ‘Cape Case’ hanging over his head, but he knew that beating his head against the wall, figuratively, wouldn’t get him anywhere. He need some time to relax, unwind, allow his mind to wander and deal with something else.

 

That’s why, in his small, two bedroom apartment, instead of having a guest room no one used, Peter had created his own entertainment room. Thirty Two inch TV screen, surround sound and a DVD collection that would be the envy of his local Video Warehouse, it was pretty damn good for your average cop, Peter thought to himself.

 

Once his popcorn was done, he popped in a DVD of ‘Chinatown’ with a young Jack Nicholson, sat back in his recliner and for the next twenty minutes, allowed the world to melt away in favor of a Hollywood-land created illusion.

 

Naturally, when he had just started to really get into the movie, there was a knock. Peter sighed, paused the DVD…and quickly realized that the knock he’d heard sounded wrong, somehow. Maybe it was his imagination at work, but it didn’t sound like it came from the front door.

 

Removing his weapon from his shoulder harness (a good Gotham cop was never three feet away from his weapon, they said, and a great cop was never farther than a foot, according to his uncle), he walked into his living room, gun pointed forward…and saw a young girl dressed all in black, casually riffing through the reports he’d brought home.

 

“Freeze!”

 

Batgirl turned around casually, not the least bit concerned about the gun pointed at her.

 

“I’d like your help,” said Batgirl plainly.

 

“Breaking and entering’s a crime and I’m a cop, little girl,” Peter spat, “hands up!”

 

“I’d like your help,” Batgirl repeated, “the case you’re working on…I’m investigating as well.”

 

“Name one reason why I should help you,” Peter growled, weapon still trained on Batgirl, “it was your people making an end run around my uncle that undermined him as commissioner!”

 

“Because I have training you don’t. Because…I can go places you can’t,” Batgirl looked over the Detective with a critical eye, “and…I’ll owe you a favor.”

 

Detective Peter Akins carefully reviewed his situation. In all likelihood, she had already read his notes and though he held a fair opinion of himself, he knew that the chances of successfully arresting this girl were slim to none. Not without backup.

 

He quickly came to realize that the only way to turn this situation into something positive would be to actually take Batgirl up on her offer. He had nothing to lose… and perhaps something to gain.

 

“Alright,” Peter swallowed his pride, holstered his weapon but left the safety off, “what do you want to know?”

 

“How was he killed?”

 

Peter looked at Batgirl with a critical eye, “I’d have thought you read the report.”

 

“Reports rarely tell the full story,” Cassandra said smoothly. It was a line Batman had insisted she memorized for situations like this.

 

“Right,” Peter liked to think that his reports did in fact, tell the whole story, “as best as we can figure, our vic was killed by a professional. There was slight scar tissue around all his vital organs. He had an advanced healing ability, but that only did so much. The punishment his body suffered was enough to kill twenty men.”

 

“You didn’t find the crime scene, did you?”

 

Peter shook his head, “I doubt I’d find it without an army of CSI people and a search warrant for the entire twenty block area.”

 

“Anything else?”

 

“Actually yeah, there is. The guy had all the right equipment, and at least looked professional…but there were virtually no defensive wounds that the coroner could find.”

 

“The healing factor…”

 

“Even taking that into account, there were no tears on his suit that would indicate he fought back,” Peter explained, “but at the same time, this guy didn’t die an easy death and almost certainly had combat training. But whoever killed him somehow circumvented that like it wasn’t even there. How, I’ve no idea.”

 

Batgirl took in the Detective’s thoughts, and in her mind, ran it past her briefing. Within seconds, she had an answer.

 

“Thank you,” Batgirl turned towards the door, “you’ve been helpful.”

 

“You know something, don’t you?”

 

“I know many things,” Batgirl replied casually, “this…you should know as well.”

 

Peter blinked, wondering what Batgirl was talking about. Then, that proverbial light went off in his head, and everything clicked into place.

 

“His trainer killed him! Had to be! That’s how he knew how to kill the vic, and how he could do it so effortlessly!”

 

Peter looked towards where Batgirl had been only moments before, and saw not a trace.

 

&&&

 

M and K Anderson Incorporated, on the surface, didn’t look like a building that belonged to the world famous Lex Luthor. For one thing, the company sign was in big, bold neon letters, and the paint was only slightly chipped and weathered. Luthor buildings were kept immaculate, with bold, custom designed signs declaring to the world just who their owner was.

 

But at the same time, Luthor was no fool. He had no desire to announce his important holdings in Gotham. Though he didn’t fear Batman more than a certain Man of Steel, Luthor knew full well of the madmen that roamed Gotham’s criminal element. And though Lex was confident that he could crush anyone of them without too much effort, he also knew that his name alone wasn’t enough protection to prevent a break-in in the first place. Instead, he relied on anonymity and ignorance to protect his Gotham installations.

 

Naturally, that safeguard was nothing to the Bat-clan, and even less to Oracle.

 

Batgirl stood guard at an adjoining building, steeped in shadows as her eyes scanned for anything out of the ordinary, anything amiss.

 

After thirty odd minutes, her vigilance was rewarded. A janitorial van pulled into the garage, but the men who stepped were anything but janitors. Their body language was tight, coiled like a snake readying a strike.

 

Four men stepped out, three of whom looked remarkably alike. Batgirl didn’t need a DNA test to know that they were all clones. Their stances were that of practiced, skilled men of violence. They were aware of their surroundings, but not on edge. Their breathing was quickened, but by no means panicked. They were no doubt worried about the man who killed their comrade, but were still determined to see their mission through.

 

The young Bat saw the men talking amongst themselves, and she carefully balanced her options. The men were carrying dart guns, and emphasizing how they wanted no deaths (practicality, not humanity. Death always made things worse). Batgirl then saw one man remove a receipt from his pocket, and carefully place it under the front seat.

 

A false trail, Batgirl realized. They had no intention of returning to the van.

 

The disciple of the Bat took a moment to evaluate her situation and objective. Her mission was to determine if the Council had indeed returned and these men were her only link to them. If she stopped them now, The Council might pull up stakes and leave Gotham, which meant failing the mission.

 

Failing the mission was unacceptable.

 

Batgirl watched the four enter the building, taking note of how they walked and carried themselves. One carried himself with a sense of higher purpose, a mission. Of all of them, his body language was the most confident and assured.

 

The man with the scar hid a fire of rage underneath curt nods. He looked as if he might explode with the right provocation and not care who was hit.

 

The third man seemed to have little thoughts to call his own, following in his comrade’s heels eagerly, like a puppy following its master. He deferred to the other men so completely it was plain to see, even when they gave him no directions.

 

The last man though, interested the young crimefighter the most. Beneath a casual calm, there was a slight murmur of deception and anxiety. This man had a secret, that much was plain as day to Batgirl.

 

Once the men were inside the building, Cassandra fired her grappling hook and swung over to the adjoining roof. From there, she reasoned that she’d be able to hear their getaway vehicle, or, if they left on foot she would be able to better spot them leave.

 

Ten minutes passed, and Batgirl waited with seasoned patience. She focused her highly trained senses towards the street below, listening for the voices she heard before, or the late night screeching of tires to indicate that the getaway vehicle had arrived.

 

So focused on the street, the Daughter of Cain almost missed the –whup! whup! whup!- of the approaching helicopter.

 

 

Batgirl moved into action before she was even consciously aware of the approaching helicopter, diving into the shadows behind the roof entrance. As the helicopter approached, she could hear men bounding up the stairs.

 

“Lets go, lets go, double time!” shouted one of the men.

 

The four piled into the helicopter smoothly.

 

Batgirl crouched down and crawled towards the helicopter, still concealed in shadows. As luck would have it, the rear of the helicopter didn’t have any lights to dispel the shadows, making it the perfect angle for approach.

 

If crawling under a rotor blade spinning hundreds of miles per hour could be considered lucky, that is.

 

Batgirl stole a glance, then dove for the shadows at the end of the copter. The gravel of the roof helped her slide into place perfectly. Crawling quickly with her belly to the ground, Batgirl had just reached the helicopter before it got out of reach. She pulled an electro-magnetic hook, designed by Waynetech for special forces, though it hardly looked like an advanced weapon of any kind. Rather, it looked like what it actually was, just a large round magnet with a leather strap. Housed inside were powerful batteries that stored over eight hours of power. Affixing it to the bottom of the craft soundlessly, Batgirl held on and rose with the aircraft.

 

Once she was convinced that the men inside the helicopter didn’t suspect that they had a hitchhiker, Batgirl took a wire out of her belt, and attached it to the magnetic hook. The wire ran through out her entire belt and allowed her to hang from the magnet without straining her arm by forcing her to rely on only that against the strong upper winds.

 

As luck would have it, the Gotham night was still and the thieves were taking their time returning to their headquarters, which meant the winds that battered Batgirl at such a height weren’t nearly as bad as they could have been.

 

The ride was almost relaxing, in fact.

 

Sparing a glance downwards, Batgirl couldn’t help but think how small, interchangeable Gotham City looked from the air. The city looked like Cassandra Cain always thought the world should be, one peaceful collection of people, living and working together.

 

A strafing of bullets across the rear of the helicopter brought Batgirl out of her day dream. Her instincts telling her that she hadn’t been found, she scanned the skyline, and saw what looked like a modified helicopter with duel gun turrets approaching fast, silently.

 

And that was bad news for the helicopter Batgirl was attached to. Almost immediately, it began to list and stumble in the air, and she could hear the engines struggling to complete their job, and keep the aircraft aloft.

 

“We’re going down, brace for impact!”

 

Even over the dying engines and fierce winds, Batgirl could hear the pilot yelling. Not that she needed to hear him to know the helicopter was doomed.

 

With only a split second to decide, Batgirl made the only choice she could. She didn’t have the ability to help, and the pilot didn’t need her extra mass holding onto the underbelly while he tried to make a controlled landing.

 

Severing the line with the press of a button, Batgirl’s hand went to her grappling hook while her mind went to those who had opened fire on the helicopter. They weren’t amateurs, that much was certain. The ambush, the use of sound deafening technology, the precision targeting, all spoke of a professional operation.

 

They weren’t amateurs, Batgirl reflected as she fell towards the ground, but they were definitely zealots (Nightwing taught her that word). People ruled by their passions and fears and not logic and reason. Batman reversed, was how Nightwing summarized them.

 

Firing her grappling hook, Batgirl knew this case was going to get complicated, fast.

 

&&&

_Union Station, Washington D.C._

 

Martha Fisk was an oddity. She graduated top of her class, excelling with ease and mastering AP classes as if she were the teacher, not the student. With her impressive resume and glowing recommendations, she didn’t have to work as a ticket clerk at one of the busiest cities in the world.

 

But she did it because she liked people, and because this job allowed her to stretch her imagination with every new person that approached her booth. A little bit of small talk was all it took for her to create an entire life for someone.

 

“One ticket for Gotham, please.”

 

Martha took one glance at her new costumer, and knew she didn’t need much of imagination to know that this young lady had had it rough.

 

The young woman standing at her booth had long, unbrushed, frayed blond hair, deep bags under her eyes, clothes that looked torn and frayed, as if they’d had days of service with no rest.

 

“That’ll be twenty three dollars and seventy two cents,” Martha replied.

 

She watched as the young blond woman reached into her gym bag and Martha’s eyes widened as she saw a darkly colored cape and mask. The young woman saw this, and tried to shove the offending items out of view as she took her money out.

 

Plunking down twenty five dollars and asserting she didn’t need any change, the young woman glanced around nervously as Martha printed up her ticket.

 

“Got friends or family in Gotham?” Martha asked, her curiosity getting the better of her, if only slightly.

 

The young woman took the ticket and with a sad smile, said, “A friend….I think. I hope…”

 

&&&

 

Batgirl pulled herself up over the edge of the roof, and took a moment to access the situation while her grappling gun reeled back in its hook.

 

The helicopter carrying the Council agents had crashed four roofs away. The men were struggling to pull themselves out as the attack helicopter came around for another pass. One of the men squeezed out, and armed with duel uzis managed to return fire.

 

To Batgirl’s surprise, the man wasn’t aiming to kill, but instead only seemed to want to ward off the attack helicopter. He focused his return fire on the underbelly of the cockpit, even as he took a few hits himself that might kill a normal man.

 

Batgirl took off in a dash as the helicopter peeled off. As she got closer, she could see that the crash landing had claimed the life of the pilot. He too was clearly a clone of Paul Kirk, but apparently his healing factor wasn’t enough to fix shrapnel wedged in the heart.

 

One death because of those zealots already. Batgirl’s heart seethed.

 

“They’re going to come around for another pass!” yelled the uzi packing clone to his brothers, “get the goods out of here, I’ll cover you!”

 

“Look out!”

 

Batgirl’s foot crashed into the back of the man’s head, but to her surprise, the man only staggered, dropping one gun.

 

“Go!” he yelled to the three. Batgirl knocked the gun hand upwards with her left hand, while she jammed the fingers of her right hand into the soft muscle underneath her foe’s armpit. The pain made him release the gun, but he swung his left fist, aiming for Batgirl’s head.

 

Batgirl leaned backwards to avoid the blow, but she wasn’t fast enough to avoid the right kick aimed at taking her head off. Crossing her arms to guard her left, she spread her feet and grunted as the boot hit her wrists.

 

The Daughter of Cain had to take a step back to evaluate the situation. This man was faster and stronger than she was expecting, and that in turn threw her timing, offense and everything else. Glancing over the man’s shoulder, she could see three men escaping with a canister of something (nothing good, that much she knew) and knew she couldn’t follow them without leaving herself vulnerable.

 

Still, to the World’s Greatest Martial Artist, this was only a minor obstacle. She met eyes with this clone, taking his measure.

 

“Wait…” The man’s voice was barely above that of a whisper, and Batgirl’s fist missed the man’s face by an inch, “this isn’t what it looks like.”

 

A snap kick missed only by half an inch this time…

 

“I’m working for the government. I can’t explain everything later, but you need to take a dive!”

 

Batgirl wanted to curse her luck as this case seemed to spiral out of control at breakneck speeds. Her ability to read body language meant that she knew that the man standing in front of her was telling the honest truth.

 

Batgirl threw a bad punch and tipped forward, off balance. Her foe capitalized on her mistake, bringing his knee up to meet her stomach and then nailing her in the face with his flattened palm. He pulled his punch, but Batgirl still saw stars for a moment as she went down.

 

The clone of Manhunter didn’t spare Batgirl a second glance as ran in the direction of the fire escape, after his comrades. To his surprise, he saw one of his self declared ‘brothers’ at the fire escape, waiting for him.

 

“Damn it Peter, I said get out of here!”

 

“I can read lips, Kirk,” Peter replied, his hand resting on the gun strapped to his hip.

 

Kirk’s eyes widened, and his face went pale, “Now hold up, let me explain…!”

 

“I knew it,” Peter’s hand went to his gun, and Kirk realized it was a bluff only seconds before six shots tore into the chest. Kirk went down, clutching his bullet ridden chest and cursing himself for falling for such a simple ruse.

 

“You may have dressed like our father,” Peter leveled his gun at his victim’s head, knowing full well the man’s healing factor couldn’t regrow grey matter, “but you are nothing like him. You’re nothing but a deviant stain on his DNA. On ours.”

 

“I think…my goals are closer to his than yours,” Kirk defended with a blood stained smile, “I’m also smarter. She took a dive, dumb ass.”

 

Two batarangs sliced through the air, one knocking the gun from Peter’s hand, the second one impaled itself in Peter’s shoulder. The man fell back, and Batgirl could hear the man stumbling down the fire escape as she raced to Kirk’s side.

 

“I’m fine, go!” Kirk waved her off, and Batgirl hesitated for only a split second. It wasn’t in her nature to leave a dying man, but she could see his flesh knitting back together, staunching the flow of blood.

 

Batgirl took a look over the edge, and saw her prey racing down the fire escape. Batgirl began calculating her quarry’s speed, the distance between them now and the speed needed to close the distance in her mind’s eye as she leapt onto the metal rail with her back facing away from the building.

 

Taking a deep breath, Batgirl took a small, minuscule jump backwards and allowed gravity to do its thing.

 

One floor slid by, followed by another and another still. In her mind, the young crime fighter was count the tics of seconds for each story to pass by, measured against her momentum and where she expected her target to be.

 

When the take came, Batgirl stuck her legs out, catching the metal railing. Bending her knees and leaning in slightly, Batgirl bled off some of her speed before flipping backwards, her legs tucked into her chest.

 

Falling further downwards, Batgirl waited and then swung her entire body back towards the fire escape. Her swing was little more than a nudge towards the fire escape, but it was enough. Reaching out with her hands, Batgirl grabbed the bottom outer bars of the fire escape and pulling up her legs, swung inwards…

 

Peter, breathing hard, spared a second to look up as he sped down the fire escape. Seeing nothing, he sighed in relief and turned his head just in time to see ebony, steel toed boots swing into his chest.

 

“Ugh!”

 

The clone of Manhunter was thrown back against the wall, and in an instant a hurricane of violence descended upon him.

 

A right hook that bounced his skull against the stone wall, a steel heel that collided with his right knee, staggering him so that he fell into an uppercut, Batgirl’s onslaught was unrelenting.

 

“Wait,” Peter just barely managed to parry a punch aimed at his head, but couldn’t stop another blow from hitting his liver, “we’re on the same side!”

 

Batgirl didn’t hesitate to punch her foe in the head for such a foolish statement. Sure, he believed that what he was saying, but it was just plain insulting that he thought she was so naïve that she’d believe him.

 

Right now, Batgirl knew that the only way she could make sense of this entire mess was to beat it out of the man standing before her and that’s just what she intended to do.

 

That all changed when she heard automatic weapons fire. Not below her, like she would have expected (apparently Peter’s friends were more concerned about their own hides than his) but from above.

 

Where she had just left a wounded man behind.

 

Peter didn’t…couldn’t see Batgirl’s anger through the haze of pain he suffered, but he certainly felt it. A dozen more blows, and a single soft touch, fell upon him in less than fourteen seconds, and then Batgirl grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him down the fire escape stairs.

 

Peter expected her to come after him, but he wanted in amazement as Batgirl swung up towards the roof, to investigate those gunshots no doubt.

 

“Better him than me,” Peter groaned. Clutching his side, he picked himself up and decided to make good on his getaway.

 

&&&

 

Batgirl wasn’t the least bit surprised by what she saw as she swung up, which was as disappointing as it was infuriating.

 

The Manhunter clone was fighting a man in an all black uniform that sported a katana and a mask of a horned demon and standing off to the side, watching for an opening with a customized rifle (Batgirl didn’t recognize it’s make and considering how many rifles her father trained her on growing up, that was saying something) was a woman with fiery red hair and black body armor.

 

Batgirl immediately recognized them from the files as Asano Nitobe and Christine St. Clair, both close personal friends, who had dedicated their lives to caring on for their fallen friend.

 

Batgirl would have respected that ideal a lot more, if that hadn’t translated into hunting down and killing all of Paul Kirk’s clones like dogs in the street.

 

“That is enough!” Batgirl yelled with a ferocity one would never suspect in Cassandra Cain.

 

Removing a batarang from her belt, she threw it into the ground between Kirk and Nitobe. Batgirl was already moving as the weapon released a blast of blinding light, and as the two stumbled, trying to regain their vision Batgirl jumped between them and drove them apart with a scissor kick.

 

“This fight is over,” Batgirl declared as she held a clenched fist at both sides.

 

“You have no idea what you’re doing, little girl,” Christine leveled her rifle at Kirk, “he’s helping resurrect one of the greatest terrorist organizations ever! And to think you dared call yourself Manhunter!”

 

“You idiots!” Kirk shot back, “Yes, I’m working with people…”

 

“Clones!” Christine hissed, “of a better man than you could ever hope to be!”

 

“People,” Kirk growled again, “trying to resurrect the Council. But I was infiltrating them, and was planning on bring them down when you shot me out of the air, and forced me to blow my cover!”

 

Batgirl glanced at Manhunter, and felt a shiver go down her spine as she saw the anxiety in his body.

 

“What exactly was stolen?” asked Batgirl.

 

Manhunter sighed, and then narrowed his eyes at his accusers, “Oh, that? It’s an experimental nerve gas created for population pacification control in prisons. At least, that’s the official line Luthor has fed the Brass.

 

“But in actually, it’s a mind control gas. In revenge for helping Paul Kirk defeat them, the Council has decided that Gotham will the source of their new army. And now that I’ve been exposed…I don’t know how we can stop them.”

 

Next issue: Batgirl, The Power Company’s Manhunter and crew struggle to overcome their mistrust as they try to stop the Council from returning, but internal strife may end these allies before their enemies fire a single shot! All this, plus Batgirl learns a disturbing secret about her mentor in part 2 of Nature’s War!


	10. Chapter 10

**DC Infinity Presents**

**Batgirl # 9**

**Nature’s War**

**Part 2**

**Nurturing Conflict**

Gotham City

 

As a rule, Batgirl tried not to worry about the directions her missions took. No matter how a mission might change course, justice always needed to be dealt and there was no use complaining that something didn’t go according to plan, largely because Batgirl never really had a great plan beyond ‘make things right’. And so, Batgirl just allowed changes to just roll off her shoulders and make adjustments accordingly.

 

 

This particular mission, however, truly tested her ability to do that. Batgirl was assigned to investigate the possible return of a terrorist organization known as The Council. It began easy enough, following some of their suspected clone soldiers after they committed a theft, but that went downhill when a trio of the Council’s old enemies suddenly shot the soldiers out of the sky.

 

In the end, almost all the soldiers escaped. The only one Batgirl managed to hold onto was an apparent double agent, one Kirk Depaul, who she then had to save from the same people who had derailed the mission in the first place!

 

“Oh, that? It’s an experimental tear gas created for population pacification control in prisons. Guards can take a pill and then not have to worry about the gas during a prison riot. At least, that’s the official line Luthor has fed the Brass.

 

“But in actually, it’s a mind control gas. In revenge for helping Paul Kirk defeat them, the Council has decided that Gotham will the source of their new army. And now that I’ve been exposed…I don’t know how we can stop them.”

 

And of course, as if a truly fouled up mission wasn’t enough by itself, all of Gotham was apparently in danger, Batgirl reflected incensed by the entire situation.

 

“You’re lying, you’d probably say anything to save your skin,” Christine St. Clair looked at the clone of the man she once loved with undisguised contempt, “How do we know even know that your friends didn’t just toss you overboard?”

 

“I believe him,” Batgirl said, her tone implying that alone was enough.

 

“I’m afraid that’s not good enough,” said Asano Nitobe, his hand resting on his sword. Batgirl sneered at the ninja, not needing the ability to read body language to know what the man was secretly hoping for, “I need more than the word of someone I’ve never met before I trust you with my life.”

 

“You spared my life once before, sensei,” remarked the clone, “You remember San Francisco? You ambushed me on a roof top, and then Red shot me in the back. To honor a dead hero, of course.”

 

Batgirl saw the surprise in the two’s body, and relaxed somewhat.

 

“You’re that clone who formed Power Company!” Christine gasped, “but the reports said you were dead!”

 

“The reports of my demise were slightly mistaken,” smirked the clone, “I’d be willing to tell you all about it…if you don’t mind the real criminals escaping!”

 

“…oh, right!” the former Interpol agent rubbed the back of her head sheepishly.

 

“We can have Mbeya pick us up, and we can finish our discussion in the air.”

 

“And if you don’t like what I have to say, the trip comes with its own sudden stop?” Manhunter asked rhetorically, “yeah, I’d rather walk.”

 

“We’re both going,” Batgirl said firmly. She didn’t trust either side at the moment, even if she was sympathetic to this Manhunter, every instinct Batgirl had told her not to trust him, but she also knew that she needed him for this case more than the rest.

 

After all, information was deadlier and more valuable than any weapon and Manhunter had more information about what was going on than anyone else here. That was one lesson Oracle made a point to drill into Batgirl’s until it was second nature.

 

“Mbeya, we need a pick up,” St. Clair spoke into her radio, “we have two guests, so you know.”

 

Tense moments passed as transportation arrived. Christine St. Clair and Asano Nitobe held their weapons as if they might be attacked at any moment, while Manhunter expected them to come at him any minute, and only became tenser the closer the helicopter came. Batgirl, for her part, willed herself to relax simply because the people all around her were taut, each expecting the other to be the first to attack the other.

 

After all, in a hair trigger stand off, Batgirl found that she actually reacted better when relaxed. Reacting to a tense situation with violence wasn’t second nature to Cassandra Cain, it was first.

 

Finally, the duo’s helicopter arrived without any violence preceding it, and the four climbed in silently while their eyes watched for any sense of betrayal.

 

“So we picked up a Bat and a clone,” remarked the pilot. Batgirl could see that the man’s dark features, and guessed that he was the final member of Paul Kirk’s band that brought down the first Council, a brilliant weapons designer by the name of Kolu Mbeya, “how’d that happen?”

 

“This is Gotham,” St. Clair answered, “as for the clone, make yourself useful and tell us where to go, and then kindly inform us why you’re still breathing.”

 

“There’s a condemned building in the Gotham district known as ‘The Hill’,” Manhunter stated, “we used that as our base of operations. Just go straight for about twenty blocks. But keep the speed down, I doubt we want too many people noticing us just right now and it’s only a matter of time before the police find that chopper you were kind enough to shot down. I’m sure they’d like to give you a medal for that one.”

 

“It’s always the smart asses who walk away,” Kolu muttered.

 

“Now explain to us, how you survived,” ordered Asano Nitobe, “according to the reports we received, you were killed. You were said to be beheaded by a delusional Mark Shaw, a former bounty hunter who went by Manhunter himself, if I’m remembering the reports right.”

 

“That’s right, sensei,” Kirk spat the last word as if it was a personal insult, “but that wasn’t me. See, a while back some people from Luthor’s administration approached me for a deep cover assignment. They received reports that several clones were still out there, trying to resurrect the Council. Or didn’t you notice that the enemy you first fought against had returned while you were busy hunting down their foot soldiers?”

 

“I thought that was just some upstarts who took the name to sound impressive. I mean, how could the Council have survived?” St. Clair asked, “I led the Interpol taskforce that dismantled their network myself, I sifted through the ruins of their base with my own two hands!”

 

Manhunter shook his head, “If I knew, I’d tell you…”

 

Batgirl eyed the clone carefully, but kept her own counsel. This situation was already hair trigger…

 

“…but that doesn’t matter. At any rate, they expected the cell to reach out to me, and that’s just what happened. Turns out, you were better at drying up their resources than you thought, St. Claire. My contacts and operational knowledge was fresher, better than theirs. They needed me like a fish needs water.”

 

“But why would they trust you?” asked Batgirl. She could easily tell his personal opinion of The Council, and she suspected anyone who knew.

 

Manhunter smiled, showing his pearly white teeth. Batgirl couldn’t decide if it looked like a fox grinning or a shark smiling, but he certainly reminded her of a dangerous animal, “Who says they did? Part of our Council training includes a little brainwashing. I decided to play hookie with that class, so it didn’t work on me like they thought.”

 

“And the body?”

 

“They decided it would raise too much suspicion if I simply disappeared from the Power Company, so they had someone fill in for me,” Kirk explained, “good thing too, otherwise it might have me who that wackjob who was hunting down others with the name ‘Manhunter’ killed.”

 

A pause.

 

“But I guess you don’t care if there’s an insane killer out there calling themselves Manhunter,” Depaul shrugged, “so long as he’s not a clone, right?”

 

“I won’t be lectured on ethics by you, of all people!” Christine hissed, “I know exactly how you stabbed your own teammates in the back for an extra buck! You don’t have the high ground here!”

 

“We’re here,” Kolu announced before any retorts could be made, “which building is the one we want?”

 

“Third apartment building from the corner. We rented out the top floor, no questions asked.”

 

“They’ll be ready for us,” Batgirl noted.

 

Kolu rolled his eyes expressively, even though Batgirl couldn’t see his face, “We haven’t gotten this far by being easy marks.”

 

&&&

 

From two blocks away, the clone of Paul Kirk who claimed the name Peter watched a helicopter fire several canisters from the underbelly onto the roof. Within seconds, the entire roof was blanketed in a thick, white smoke that not even the chopper’s blades could dispel.

 

It descended onto the roof, lingered for a moment and then climbed back into the air.

 

Peter counted to thirty in his head…and then depressed the remote detonator.

 

The apartment floor that he and his fellow clones had been using exploded with enough force to shake the entire block.

 

Unfazed by the level of destruction he’d just unleashed, Peter turned on his heel and jogged out of the area. After a massive explosion like that, he knew instinctively it would look more suspicious if he simply walked, and he had a lot of distance to cover before the day was out.

 

&&&

 

“Yeah,” Kirk looked at the massive destruction below with a simple roll of his eyes, “never would have seen that one coming, Petey.”

 

“Don’t smirk too much,” St. Claire snapped, “we have no idea where their fallback point is!”

 

Manhunter leaned back with his head behind his hands comfortably and smiled smugly, “Well, that’s hardly my fault, now is it?”

 

“You smug…!”

 

“I planted a tracer,” Batgirl broke in, “on the man…who shot Manhunter.”

 

“Excellent work,” complimented Asano Nitobe, “we can simply follow the man until he meets with his compatriots, and we will have them.”

 

“Careful kid,” Kirk warned, “this bunch don’t know what to do with tips. I did them a solid, and all they did was leave one of the cell members dead in the street and left the others suspicious of me.”

 

“We will wait.” Batgirl declared, “we need them to believe…that they are not being followed. So we won’t. We’ll allow them to think…that they escaped.”

 

“No, that’s not good enough,” St. Claire hissed, “we need to find them now!”

 

“I must agree with my compatriot,” Nitobe’s hand rested heavily on his sword, “time is of the essence.”

 

As a rule, no Bat liked attempts at imitation. Batgirl was no exception.

 

“This isn’t a debate,” Batgirl’s voice was as sharp as a razor, “if you disagree with my methods…you will leave Gotham.”

 

“I’d listen to her,” Manhunter advised, “You don’t outnumber anyone here. I’m sure that’s a first for you.”      

 

Nitobe’s hand eased away from his sword and nodded reluctantly.

 

“We’re getting out,” Batgirl hissed. She stood up and grabbed Manhunter by the collar, forcing him to stand, “meet us at Robinson Park, by the lake…by ten.”

 

Batgirl grabbed the door handle and forcefully swung it open. Despite the roar of the air, Batgirl made herself heard perfectly

 

“If you’re not there…you better not be in Gotham.”

 

Batgirl spun on her heels, and with a firm grip on Manhunter, leapt from the helicopter for the city below.

 

“…you know, I get the feeling she doesn’t like us,” St. Claire sighed.

 

 

&&&

 

“… _feeling is mutual_.”

 

Standing atop a cold, windy apartment building, the Daughter of Cain watched the helicopter carrying her ester-while allies disappear across the horizon.

 

Batgirl pressed her finger against her ear, listening to the micro-radio within it, hoping for more revealing conversation from the trio, something that might give her greater insight into these people, insight that wasn’t readily available in Oracle’s files.

 

“You’re a Bat alright,” Kirk leaned back against the building’s stairwell entrance, “watching both sides from the middle.”

 

Batgirl glared at him for a moment, but offered no reply.

 

“Not that I’m offended. I dealt with big Daddy Bat, I know how it is,” Manhunter reached behind his back, plucked a tracer that Batgirl had planted on him and then flicked it back to her. Batgirl, her face unapologetic, caught the devise in one hand, “you won’t need that to keep tabs on me, though. I intend to see this through to the end.”

 

“The people who hired you…”

 

“Were all Luthor’s cronies,” Manhunter finished, “they were among the first people to go down when his administration collapsed. So no, we can’t get backup in time enough to matter.”

 

“Understood. Do you need a…place to stay? I have safe-houses…”

 

“You mean Batman has safe-houses,” Batgirl scowled at the mercenary, “thanks, but no. The Bat made it clear a long time ago he doesn’t care about the lives of clones.”

 

Batgirl said nothing, choosing instead simply throwing a grappling line and swing away. Arguing with the man was pointless, and she very much believed Manhunter when he said that he intended to see this through to the end. As a matter of fact, it was about the only thing she trusted in regard to that man.

 

Try as she might though, Batgirl couldn’t banish Manhunter’s last words from her mind.

 

‘Batman doesn’t care for the lives of clones’.

 

Manhunter believed what he said, his body spoke of resentment, anger, but also honesty. There was no trace of deception in either his voice or body. He wasn’t lying, so what did he know that she didn’t?

 

Batgirl moved through Gotham mechanically, avoiding attention with ease until she was back within her cave, her private headquarters. She activated the main computer, and Barbra Grayson’s face came up on the monitor. Batgirl described the night’s events as precisely as possible, as Oracle patiently transcribed everything (for which Batgirl was thankful. Batman demanded complete files on everything, and Batgirl agreed, even when she had great difficulty creating those files).

 

Finally, Oracle asked, “Is that all?”

 

“No,” Batgirl removed her mask, preferring to look her mentor in the eyes, “Manhunter said…Batman didn’t care about the lives…of clones. What did he mean?”

 

Cassandra almost felt guilty, implying that Batman might have committed some wrong, based on the word of a hired gun like Manhunter. At least until, Oracle gave her **The Look**.  

 

Cassandra respected Oracle deeply, but every time the genius hacker gave her **The Look** , it was like a neon that the respect wasn’t mutual. That what Oracle had to say next was ‘complicated, confusing, and you were better off not knowing but I’ll tell you anyways’. The Look was twice as annoying because Oracle was often right.

 

“Cassandra…”

 

Cass glared at Oracle and hissed, “If I’m really a member… of this team, then I have a right to know. “

 

“You’re more than a member of the team,” Oracle reassured her, “but you’re right. You do have a right to know. Since you met Paul Kirk’s friends and read the files, you know how dedicated they are to preserving and honoring his memory.”

 

Batgirl nodded as her eyes narrowed. ‘Honoring his memory’ roughly translated into hunting down and killing the clones. As much as that angered her, Cassandra knew there was not much that could be done about it. Christine St. Clair and the others had the passive permission of law enforcement to kill the clones. Given how far and wide the Council was spread, and as a result, their army, it was all but impossible to stop them. As Cassandra understood it, it would have been next to impossible to stop them unless they were caught in the act.

 

“Well, the three of them tracked a Paul Kirk clone to Gotham. They ambushed him in his hotel room, chased the clone through the city and, well…killed him just outside of Gotham.”

 

Cassandra’s eyes went wide, “Did…did Batman know?”

 

The idea that The Batman would allow anyone to get away with murder in his city seemed like nothing but a sick fantasy to the young crimefighter. Batman possessed a willpower, genius unlike anyone else she had ever met, and as such, His city was subject to stricter rules. Only the police could kill, and only in self defense, that was Batman’s unspoken edict for Gotham as far as Cassandra Cain was concerned.

 

Oracle shifted uncomfortably, “He did. He intervened in the chase, but the three of them were still able to…eliminate their target. Batman…decided against pursuit at the time, and didn’t follow up.”

 

Cassandra’s jaw dropped. Someone had murdered another human being in the presence of Batman…and remained unpunished. Try as she might…Batgirl simply couldn’t wrap her mind around the concept, it ran against everything she believed about her mentor, her idol.

 

“Why would he do that…?”

 

“It’s complicated,” Oracle sighed, “the courts might not have recognized the clone as a legal person with human rights, he was planning a terrorist attack and well…it was born, bred and trained by a terrorist organization from birth to be the perfect weapons.”

 

Cassandra’s mouth hung open.

 

“Cass?”

 

“…so am I…” Cassandra whispered and Oracle snapped back as she realized exactly what she had just said.

 

“Cass, wait… I didn’t mean it like…”

 

Cassandra slammed her fist down on her computer’s emergency termination button, and Oracle’s face just disappeared from the screen.

 

Clenching her fists, Cassandra replayed the words in her mind, trying to reconcile the actions of her mentor with the image she had of him in her head, in her heart. For what seemed like a moment of eternity, nothing made sense and Cassandra felt more worthless than she ever had before.

 

But that moment broke, and in its place a feeling of weariness permeated the muscles of her body, her bones, her very soul. Cassandra felt as if this night and her brief discussion with Oracle had aged her a hundred years.

 

With nothing more to do, Cassandra absently removed her costume and went to bed, hoping that she could find some small bit of peace this night.

 

&&&

 

The next day was almost a blur to Cassandra. Classes flew by, and though her friends sensed her troubled nature, Cassandra projected the desire to be left alone as clear as a neon sign.

 

Tatsu cooked dinner early and with only an hour left before she was due to meet up with her erstwhile allies, Cassandra was in her gym, tearing through wooden dummies as if they were made of clay. When the final wooden dummy fell to the floor in splinters, Batgirl began preparing herself for later tonight

 

In her mind’s eye, she recalled the brief recording of Asano Nitobe that Batman had on file. Combined, it was little more than six minutes, most of the action blurred and shaky.

 

But between that and her encounter with the man last night, Cassandra still had enough for her purposes.

 

In her mind’s eye, she created a perfect image of the skilled ninja. The image of the Demon Ninja struck at Cassandra, who blocked and counter attacked instantly. Though some might have felt foolish fighting an imaginary foe, Cassandra Cain was an expert in translating body language into martial arts. And her brief encounter, coupled with the information Batman had stockpiled on the man, might have well have been a book detailing the man’s fighting style.

 

Anyone observing Cassandra Cain now might have thought she was actually fighting an invisible foe, judging from the scowl on her face, how she moved with determination and reacted to fictional blows. Cassandra did this for five minutes until she finally landed the ‘final blow’.

 

“You’re obsessing about this,” Tatsu observed. Cassandra snapped her head to the side, and cursed the fact that her guardian had snuck up on her so easily.

 

“It’s just another mission,” Cassandra muttered under her breath. A glance at the clock told her it was about time to leave, and she walked over to her weapons vault.

 

“I don’t believe you,” Tatsu countered, “I spoke to Barbara. And I think you’re seeing too much of yourself, in this case.”

 

Batgirl secured a prearranged utility belt around her waist. Unlike her usual ones, this one contained equipment that was used exclusively for tracking or combat. Cassandra didn’t think that tonight would require the tools of a detective.

 

“I am not.” Batgirl said simply.

 

“You’re letting them get to you, and it’s making you question your own self worth,” Tatsu continued. “Don’t let them. They are small minded fool blinded by both regret and a narrow definition of honor.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Then why are you letting them get to you?” asked Tatsu, “You’ve fought killers and all kinds of other scum. What makes them so special?”

 

Cassandra stopped her weapons check, and swallowed a lump in her throat.

 

“Because they’re not evil,” Cassandra said, her voice low and pained, “but they still see clones…as things, worthless. Because of how…and why they were born and raised…as weapons. Like me. And…I think Batman agrees with them.”

 

“I know he doesn’t,” Tatsu answered, “to him, every life is important. But Batman accepted a long time ago that he cannot save everyone and he cannot do everything himself. That clone they killed all those years ago was a contract killer, Cassandra, who had already killed a family of four and was planning on spreading more death in Gotham. And while this St. Claire woman may be overzealous in defending her lover’s honor, she spared Kirk Depaul. The clones she killed died as soldiers of the Council or criminals using their training to hurt the innocent, Cassandra.”

 

“But how they… ‘look’ at them,” Cassandra growled, “it’s not right!”

 

“I agree,” replied Tatsu, “but to be perfectly honest, I think you care too much, Cassandra. Simply because they aren’t evil, that because they are not criminals, does not make them right.”

 

“I know!” Cassandra said defensively.

 

“You say that, but I’m not certain that’s what you’ve convinced your heart,” Tatsu countered, “they don’t you know Cassandra and have no right to judge you.”

 

“They might have been me…” whispered Cassandra.

 

“Never. They’re immoral clones of a great hero,” Tatsu observed, “that alone should tell that they could have made anything of their lives, with the right chances, the right opportunities.”

 

Cassandra had to admit to herself that she never thought of it like that. From what she gleaned from the files, Paul Kirk was a respected, capable and honorable man. And from all reports, his clones, even the one that founded the for hire hero team known as the Power Company, were anything but. Both heroes and villains, created from the exact same cloth…

 

Cassandra glanced down and saw that Tatsu wrapped her arms around her without warning.

 

“…what?”

 

“I thought you could use a hug.”

 

“Oh….okay.”

 

Several seconds passed.

 

“Didn’t say stop..!”

 

&&&

 

“This is pointless,” Christine St. Clair tossed a few pieces of popcorn towards the ducks that hovered near the shore, who gobbled up the offering without hesitation of fear. Even in her darkest hour, the Interpol agent found the purity of animals uplifting. All they saw was food, not what might be an attempted poisoning or potential health risk, “we don’t need those two. Half the time I think they want to take us in more than they want to stop those damn clones!”

 

“This is Gotham,” said Asano Nitobe, as if that were explanation enough, and it some ways, it was. Gotham was a special city to those in law enforcement. After a decade, everyone took it for granted that if something included extra normal elements, Batman or someone associated with him, would become involved. Given that all Bats were well trained and knew Gotham better than most long time residents, it was the consensus of most everyone that it was better to work with them than against them, if it could be helped, “plus, she is our only source of information on where the clones may be. We need her, more than she needs us.”

 

“You got that right, sensei,” Manhunter strolled into the clearing, wearing what Christine considered a mocking uniform. Kirk Depaul’s black and white uniform was a twisted mirror image of his DNA donor and the more Christine saw it, the more she hated it.

 

“We may need Batgirl. But we sure as hell don’t need you,” Christine snapped, “so you watch your back. A leopard doesn’t change its spots and if anything, your time down amongst the dogs likely gave you fleas.”

 

“Wow, you really know how to abuse a metaphor,” Manhunter crossed his hands over his chest, “I’m not as good with them, so I’ll just say that the both of you are idiots obsessed with the past. You, mourning your lover and you…sensei, hoping to make up for being deceived for so long. Step down off your damn crosses. Or at least get them out of your asses.”

 

“You smug piece of…” Christine St. Clair was an experienced, well trained Interpol agent who had seen more action than five average Interpol agents put together. In one fluid motion, she had unholstered her weapon, turned the safety off and leveled it at the clone with her lover’s face.

 

But before she could pull the trigger, a batarange flew out of the darkness and smacked the gun from St. Clair’s hand.

 

“That’s enough,” Batgirl stepped into the light, a scowl across her face, “we don’t know what we’ll be facing. Last thing we need…is to be fighting each other…while fighting them.”

 

“Well said,” Nitobe bowed respectfully, hoping that it might defuse some of the tension.

 

“Yeah, well…tell that to them,” Manhunter snapped, “I’m not the trigger happy one here.”

 

“You knew I was there,” said Batgirl, “don’t try to manipulate my…sympathy. I’m only here to do the right thing. Anyone who stands in my way…will be my enemy. Understood?”

 

Manhunter rolled his eyes, and St. Clair holstered her weapon without a word, but Batgirl could easily tell that that they had taken her message to heart.

 

“Summon your man. We need to move.”

 

&&&

 

The conversation after that was light, and focused entirely about the direction that the tracer was leading them in. Batgirl gave directions curtly, making sure everyone knew how dependant they were on her. Batman recommended, and Batgirl agreed, that it was best to give outsiders a short leash when you absolutely had to work with them. She was determined to keep them at arm’s length, thus making it easier to beat the crap out of them if need be.

 

The tracer led the five across half of Gotham. Batgirl instructed them to set the helicopter down when they were within two blocks of their target, knowing that no matter how silent the machine was, no one would miss heavily armed air craft. Mbeya was left behind as reinforcement, and the four of them scaled the nearest building and moved across the roof tops like shadows, until they reached their target.

 

It was a van parked next to a small park. The area was what Oracle described as ‘depressed’. Not a lot of gang violence, but more than enough drugs and not enough business that meant everyone who lived here had little choice and kept indoors as a matter of self defense. Batgirl barely needed her ability to read body language to tell who, of the five people total, were actually on their way home and who was outside standing guard in civilian clothes.

 

From their rooftop vantage point, Batgirl and her erstwhile allies could see everything. Peter, the clone who had shot Manhunter, was setting in a beat-up 1986 Toyota truck while his friends stood watch. Batgirl pointed them out for her comrades and then turned to Manhunter.

 

“What are they waiting for?”

 

“The second cell most likely.” Manhunter offered.

 

“Second cell?” asked Nitobe, “there are more clones?”

 

“No, more like middle management,” Manhunter explained, “they were people the Council paid off, converted or bribed back in the beginning. True believers, from what I gathered. They’re supposed to handle the stuff like infrastructure, contacts, stuff like that. Cell one, the guys I infiltrated, handled the stuff like wet works and whatever snatch and grabs Cell two needed.”

 

“So you were the muscle and they were the brains,” St. Clair smirked, “Why am I not surprised?”

 

“Maybe because you made your mind up about me years ago?”

 

“What would they be waiting for?” interrupted Nitobe.

 

“According to Pete, the Second Cell was handling something vital to the Council’s resurrection, but he refused to tell anyone, and I mean anyone, what that entailed.”

 

“We need to get to the street…and ready to move,” Batgirl said, as she pointed to an incoming delivery truck, “their allies are approaching.”

 

Batgirl swung down, Manhunter leapt to the ground while St. Clair and Nitobe descended down the fire escape. Within moments, they were at the mouth of the alley, ready to move.

 

The delivery truck pulled up to the clone named Peter, and turned on its warning lights. Batgirl was too far away to read lips, but it didn’t really matter. She could tell that they were simply confirming their plans, using whatever codes that they might have pre-established to assure one another everything was alright.

 

Batgirl was about to signal for her allies to move, when the shrill pitch of a police siren cut through the quiet of the night. Three cars came in from the front and three from the rear and skidded to a halt, boxing in the soldiers of The Council. Officers jumped out of the car, guns drawn and yelling for the men to put their hands up.

 

“Did your buddies tip off the cops?” accused Manhunter, “do you have any idea how much more complicated this is going to be now?”

 

Batgirl ignored him. This situation didn’t feel right. Where was the Swat team? No police force would even think about using regular officers in a case that involved metahumans unless all others options were exhausted. Plus, the body language for the police was completely off. But Batgirl only needed to make one call to discern the truth.

 

“Oracle,” Batgirl whispered into her radio, so that even her allies strained to hear her.

 

“Here. What do you need?”

 

“Code GPD, please.”

 

GPD was Bat-family code, asking for the proximity of the police in relation to their location. Oracle replied, and Batgirl reacted instantly, running from the alley and towards the scene at full speed.

 

“What is she…?”

 

“…lost her mind!”

 

“They’re fake!” Batgirl shouted at the top of her lungs. She leapt on top of one the counterfeit cop cars that were blocking the street from the front and by the time the fake cops realized she was there, Batgirl was already lunging for her first target.

 

Batgirl landed in front of three men. They were still turning around to face her when Batgirl struck the first one in the back of the head with her flattened palm, knocking him out instantly. Batgirl pushed his limp body towards man number two and then balancing on her right foot, swung her left leg out and smacked the gun hand of thug number three aside before he could get off a shot. Bring her foot back, Batgirl shattered the man’s jaw while rendered him unconscious.

 

The final man had just pushed his fellow coworker aside when Batgirl’s forehead collided with his, and all he saw after that was darkness.

 

&&&

 

“I absolutely hate this city and its freaks,” growled Martin Stromm. When he and his men agreed to undertake this mission, it was with the full knowledge that it might involve the city’s capes. But the employer wasn’t a man you said no to, the money was too good and the risk seemed minimum.

 

But Murphey’s Law had a way of screwing up a good thing…

 

Martin slammed a clip into his uzi and was about to spray bullets in the general direction of his enemies (men be damned, this called for desperate measures) when he felt a sharp stabbing in his hand that made him drop his gun.

 

A man with a demon’s mask stepped forward, sword in hand, “Stand down and live.”

 

Martin removed his custom made bowie knife from behind his back, “What, you think you’re a ninja or something? Eight years special forces, freak.”

 

“A ninja?” A feint and a simple twist of the wrist, and Asano’s sword was in Martin’s chest, within a quarter inch of lethal depth, “more like **the** ninja. Apply pressure to the wound and you will live. Fight, and you will surely die.”

 

&&&

 

“Die, die for the Council!” The clone of Paul Kirk had a gun in each hand, and just barely managed to direct his fire at the enemy. In comparison to his brothers, he had neither a great deal of skill or powers of reason. But he made up for it with an amazing amount of passion. The Council was his will, his way. Without them, he never would have existed and so, in his mind, exterminating their enemies was the least he could do in repayment.

 

His passion for his creators however, left little room for anything else. Kirk took aim with his side arm from five yards away and with two simple shots, disarmed his genetic brother.

 

“Looks like someone played hookie during target practice,” Manhunter commented, “stand down, Bob. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

 

“My name is Number Four!” shouted the clone. He charged at the man he considered an abomination, a traitor.

 

Manhunter sighed. As much as he wanted to put a bullet through his fellow soldier clone’s eyes, he just couldn’t. Working undercover with them for so long, he found that he lacked his usual ruthlessness when it came to dealing with them. So instead he holstered his gun and removed his katar. Passion was no substitute for skill and of that, Kirk Depaul had aplenty.

 

&&&

 

Batgirl knocked another mercenary aside, and glanced around the battle field. All sides appeared to be evenly matched, but who knew how long that would last?

 

Batgirl made her way towards the rear of the delivery van. Right now, whatever the second cell was delivering was a wild card in this fight. They might have bio weapons, explosives or any number of things that could make this chaos even worse, and that made securing it priority number one.

 

The door was locked naturally, but Batgirl knew how to pick a lock at age six. She kept her eyes open while she worked, mindful of any stray bullets or people about. The lock clicked open, and Batgirl hesitated for a moment or two, examining for any hidden traps or tricks, before she grabbed the handle to pull the door open.

 

“No, stop!” The clone identified as Peter grabbed Batgirl around the waist and pinned her arms to her side, “you’re insane if you think I’d let you take our most important weapons!”

 

Batgirl swung her legs up and pushed off the van, throwing Peter off balance. He stumbled backwards and Batgirl hooked her leg behind his, bringing them tumbling to the ground with the clone on bottom.

 

The grip around her arms loosened just enough and Batgirl wasted no time in taking advantage. She rammed her right elbow into Peter’s stomach repeatedly, with enough force to kill a normal man, but just barely enough to slow down the clone armed with a healing factor. Flipping to her feet, Batgirl rushed to the van and flung the doors open.

 

Batgirl thought she was ready for anything. Dangerous weapons, a gang of metahumans, canisters of toxic gas, perhaps even piles of drugs and money.

 

Instead, she saw that the Council’s most powerful weapons…were a half dozen children, boys no older than ten, handcuffed to a bench, confused and absolutely terrified.

 

Batgirl did a double take. These children were the Council’s ultimate weapon?

 

Next Issue: Batgirl and allies seem to have found the Council’s ultimate weapon, but can they prevent their return as a third party becomes involved? Things go from bad to worse in Nature’s War 3!

 


	11. Chapter 11

_The Story Thus Far:_

 

Batgirl, in investigating the possible return of the terrorist organization known as The Council, stumbled it’s cloned soldiers who’re trying their best to resurrect their former organization. Unfortunately, she’s not the only one. Former allies of Paul Kirk, who gave his life to stop the Council the first time and a clone of the same hero have all converged, forcing Cassandra to ride herd on a team filled with petty grudges.

 

This rag tag team of allies managed to work together just long enough to intercept an vital part of the clones plan to resurrect The Council, were six young boys.

**& &&**

**DC Infinity Presents**

**Batgirl # 10**

**Nature’s War**

**Part 3**

**These Boys of Brazil**

**& &&**

_Gotham_ _City_

 

Kirk Depaul, Manhunter, brought his wrist up just in time to block a knife from cutting his throat. The edged weapon tore across the length of his arm, but the cloned hero barely winced the pain. He had suffered far worse in the bush of Africa, and took the hit to get into position. He rammed his elbow forward, smashing it in the face of the clone who proudly identified himself as Number Four, in service of the Council.

 

Number Four fell to the ground like a sack of bricks. He and Manhunter were exact genetic duplicates, but even so, skill was one trait they didn’t share.

 

 _One down, only an army to go_ , Kirk observed to himself. Right now, he really missed his old metahuman teammates, The Power Company. But after spending so long in the shadows, Manhunter doubted he could find any assistance, even old associates, in time enough to stop the Council’s return to power.

 

After so long undercover, the goal of stopping his former masters was nearly all consuming to Kirk. He knew in his bones that they created him to be a slave, to be a weapon and he hated them for it. And while Manhunter didn’t fear that they might try to take him back, he still wanted to make them pay for their arrogance.

 

The Council may have given Kirk Depaul life, but he saw no reason to be thankful for the gift. After all, he was the one who made his life actually worth _living_.

 

 

&&&

 

Asano Nitobe waded through the dozens of mercenaries, neither knowing nor caring who was on what side. In terms of allies, he had only three, all of whom could protect themselves.

 

Nitobe was a man who mastered the martial arts before the end of the second World War. He was still relatively young and vital today ironically because of The Council. But even their miracle sciences had their limits. As months passed, he could feel himself getting slower, his instincts becoming duller.

 

Unlike so many other warriors, he had no desire to die in battle. A comfortable bed and old age was enough for this ninja warrior. But Asano wanted to lose himself in battle as many times before he met his end, to feel his heart pounding and blood pumping as he tested his mettle against mercenary and clone alike. Blood splashed against his horned mask, and the old ninja felt content.

 

&&&

 

In the midst of all this, Batgirl’s mind raced as she accessed the situation. Why had the clone soldiers put so much effort and secrecy into kidnapping and securing six seemingly ordinary boys? Why were these mercenaries so intent on capturing the same boys for themselves and who could have tipped them off?

 

Unfortunately, battle left little room for solving mysteries. Before Batgirl could think of any possible answer, she heard the signature –thunk!- of a grenade hitting asphalt, and looking down, and spied one less than three feet away. Too far to grab in enough time, but still close enough to do damage, especially if it carried shrapnel.

 

Batgirl threw the doors of the van closed, and leapt away just as the grenade exploded. The force of the blast carried the young crime fighter through the air farther and faster than she intended. Batgirl hit the ground hard and rolled to a painful stop.

 

Fighting to regain control of her senses and body itself, Batgirl could do nothing about the three mercenaries who raced to her downed form, ready to deliver the coup de grace.

 

“Cover me!” ordered the man in the lead, “these Bats wear body armor, head shot is the only way to be sure!”

 

Batgirl could feel the barrel pointed at her, but before the hired soldier could squeeze off a shot, the clone identified as Peter came out nowhere and dislocated the man’s jaw with a single punch. Unfortunately, the man’s friends reacted instantly, riddling the clone’s body with bullets.

 

“Think we don’t know what you can do?” spat one of the men, “think we can’t kill you?”

 

“I know you won’t.”

 

A batarang smacked the gun from the mercenary’s hand and ricocheted to collide with his skull. The third man turned his attention from Peter just in time to see Batgirl’s knee about to collide with his face. A second later, and he was no longer a factor.

 

Batgirl took a moment to access the situation. The entire block looked as if it were caught in some weird war. Mercenaries fought with clones who in turn fought with an old cabal of allies that had their own clone, a ninja and Interpol agent. Batgirl could only imagine how terrified the residents were, and the children…

 

“We have to get them out of here,” Peter choked out, as if he was reading her mind. His lungs were full of blood, but Batgirl knew that the man’s healing factor would remedy that soon enough, “it’s the children they’re after!”

 

“You can’t take them!” Batgirl spat.

 

“Do you think that they’re safer here?” snapped Peter, his face livid with concern, “those men have carbines with armor piecing bullets! They don’t cut through flesh, they punch through organs like a fist! Would you rather they die?”

 

As if fate sought to demonstrate Peter’s point, Batgirl saw one of the mercenaries fall to St. Clair’s bullet. The man took a shot to the neck, and fell backwards, his hand still on the trigger. As he went down, he squeezed off several shots that punched through the steel frame of a parked truck.

 

Allowing a kidnapper to get away with hostages wasn’t something Batman would normally allow, neither was allowing them to be killed in the crossfire. Allowing their escape, Batgirl realized, was easily the lesser of two evils and worse, her only option. Batgirl would see Peter’s concern for the children, his fear that they may come to harm. For whatever reason, their safety was paramount to him.

 

And in contrast, Batgirl saw how her allies cared for little anything that was around them, be it the innocent children in the truck or unfortunate bystanders who have been caught in the crossfire when the shooting started.

 

Hell, no one even paid any attention to Batgirl and Peter, only six feet away from the battle on the sidewalk but to both sides, they might have well been on the moon.

 

But even so, Batgirl couldn’t surrender them without more information. She backhanded Peter across the face, blood splattering across her knuckles, and dragged him to his feet.

 

“How do I know…you won’t hurt them?” snarled Batgirl. Part of her knew his answer, but an even bigger part of her needed to hear him say it.

 

“I would never allow any harm to come to those children,” Peter answered in a voice of steel, “I’d sooner die.”

 

Batgirl plainly saw how earnest, how honest the man was standing before her. Kirk Depaul paled in comparison to this man, his genetic copy and for a moment, Batgirl regretted that this man was her enemy.

 

But then she remembered that she had to provide cover for him while he escaped with innocent children his people had kidnapped for reasons still unknown. In between breaths, her remorse died.

 

“Stay close,” Batgirl ordered, “and move quickly.”

 

Batgirl darted forward, aimed at the nearest mercenary. Two of them were in the middle of the street, having pinned down Agent St. Clair behind an old Toyota. The Daughter of Cain drove slammed her elbow down on the first man’s skull and snapped kicked the second man.

 

“Go!” snapped Batgirl as she reached for the man’s grenades.

 

Peter didn’t waste a second, sprinting to the delivery truck and hopping in the front seat. He gunned the engine just as Batgirl began lobbing the grenades.

 

“Grenades, down!” Batgirl didn’t know who yelled, but everyone took the man’s advise. It didn’t pay to stay out in the open when someone was tossing grenades around, that was just common sense.

 

It was that reaction that Batgirl was counting on. She hadn’t even bothered to pull the pins.

 

“Go!”

 

Peter gunned the engine and peeled down the street. St. Clair, Manhunter and Nitobe watched in horror as the delivery truck that had God only knew what (to them, anyways) rocket down the street and around a corner like a bat out of hell.

 

“Manhunter, Nitobe!” The Daughter of Cain held a batarang in each hand, “we end this now! St. Clair…have that van followed!”

 

The bataranges flew through the air, striking two mercenaries. Instantly, the mechanisms within them were activated and enough voltage to stun a bear surged through their bodies.

 

Manhunter and Asano Nitobe fell into place behind Batgirl, and moved against the remaining mercenaries as if they were of one mind with three bodies. Manhunter’s katar sliced through body armor, while batanges dealt with the enemies outside it’s reach, and a weighted chain and skilled hands dealt with those who remained.

 

As the trio moved into action, Batgirl spared a glance to watch and admire the contrasting styles. Nitobe moved like the wind, relying on precision and speed as he swept through the mercenaries, while Manhunter seemed like an animal, moving with a certain combination of bull headed muscle, but still capable of using grace in split second moments. Batgirl supposed it was because his healing factor allowed him to be more forceful and direct without having to worry about, but it was still a fascinating sight to see.

 

Between the three of them, the dozen remaining, elite mercenaries never had a chance. Batgirl finished the last man off with a snap kick just as she heard the police sirens in the distance.

 

“Looks like someone hear finally called the cops,” Manhunter observed.

 

Batgirl nodded. In a neighborhood like this, she wasn’t surprised reinforcements were so late in coming. Murder in broad daylight rarely drew a second glance, but a mercenary team with high powered automatics fighting vigilantes in the street had a way of cutting through that indifference.

 

Batgirl glanced around the block until she saw a parked Peugeot 405 MiI6, with perfect red paint. In as neighborhood like this, in perfect condition, it could only belong to a drug dealer or worse.

 

“That car, take it!” Batgirl pointed towards the car, “Need a moment alone.”

 

Batgirl reached into her utility belt and removed a small capsule. Kneeling down next to the closest mercenary, she snapped the pellet in two and waited for him to regain consciousness.

 

The first thing Benjamin Howell saw when he opened his eyes was a young woman with a leather mask, with a look of anger on her face that would terrify most wild animals. He immediately reached for the sidearm on his hip, but as soon as he brought it up, Batgirl swatted it away dismissively and grabbed the sides of his head.

 

For a second, Howell thought this freak might be a meta-human, some kind of telepath. But then his vision went white and mind exploded in pain so vast he couldn’t even scream.

 

But almost as quickly as the agony came, it left and Ben, a five year veteran of special ops, was left blinking back tears.

 

“Who do you work for!” demanded Batgirl.

 

“Someone…who’d do even worse if I even spoke his name,” Ben coughed, blinking the spots out of his vision.

 

Batgirl studied the man for a moment. He was speaking the truth as he knew it. He was a skilled, seasoned warrior who preferred to deal with threats up close and personal and feared little, from what she remembered of his actions only minutes earlier. But here and now, the very thought of his employer filled the man with a deep, abiding undertone of fear.

 

Batgirl knew she didn’t have enough time or information to break through that wall of fear now. The clones had escaped, and now had hostages.

_Something you allowed_ , Batgirl chided herself, in **His** voice. She felt a fear gnawing at her gut every second she didn’t know where those innocent children were. Allowing a kidnapper escape with their intended victim went against every fiber of her being, even if it was to ensure they weren’t killed in the crossfire. A necessary evil felt no less evil to Batgirl.

 

Batgirl dispatched the man with a simple blow, and ran to her allies. At the moment, the only thing that matter were those six children, kidnapped and terrified out of their minds.

 

Batgirl leapt into the rear seat of the car a second or two before St. Clair was ready to pull away.

 

“Learn anything?” asked Manhunter.

 

“Nothing,” Batgirl answered.

 

“It was probably one of the clones selling the other out,” St. Clair hissed. Manhunter didn’t take the bait, but Batgirl did.

 

“They’re not him,” Batgirl snapped, “get over it.”

 

“You don’t understand,” St. Clair snarled, “how could you? You wear the emblem of a man with no identity of your own…”

 

“Better than chasing the memory of a dead man,” Batgirl retorted.

 

“Boy, I’m glad we’re all feeling so cuddly, aren’t you sensei?”

 

&&&

 

Kolu Mbeya watched his instruments intently as he waited for his partners to make their appearance. He had tracked the van to a dilapidated storage depot, but given that he was piloting a modified helicopter, that’s where his pursuit ended. All he could do now was send an open channel beacon to his partners, and hope that they arrived soon.

 

“Come on, come on,” he muttered. Kolu ran his fingers across the board, and did an infrared scan of the building, and came up empty. Either the people he was tracking disappeared, or the building was shielded somehow, preventing his instruments from detecting anything.

 

Mbeya silently feared that it was both.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a car approaching the lot, and breathed a sigh of relief.

 

“Let them save those kids…” he muttered to higher power that might be listening. He had no idea why those cloned bastards would want or need children for, but

 

&&&

 

Batgirl, Christine, Manhunter and Nitobe got out of the car in record time, and fought against their instincts to rush inside the building as they inspected the area for traps, sniper’s positions, anything that might indicate what kind of trap awaited them.

 

They didn’t have to search long, however. Within seconds of their arrival, one of the clones of Paul Kirk, threw open one of the storage compartment doors and walked out, explosives strapped around his waist.

 

As if the thick bars of C-4 weren’t enough, there was at least a dozen barrels of unknown material sitting in plain sight behind the man, all wired to a detonator.

 

Batgirl drew a batarang instantly, but held off attacking. The man’s body language wasn’t aggressive, at least not in a manner that implied he was going to attack. He had something he wanted to say, and Batgirl thought it better to allow him to speak his mind than to provoke someone with over a hundred pounds of explosive.

 

“You have no idea what you’re trying to stop! We do what we do for the good of the world!” yelled the clone soldier. Batgirl could see how he meant every word with a fierce, dedicated passion, “we can save this world, if you would just let us!”

 

“I too once believed that,” Nitobe answered, “but I learned that no good can come from the Council’s tactics. Murder, terror…I has to end.”

 

“Return the children,” Batgirl ordered, “now. And we may show mercy.”

 

The clone regarded Batgirl with nothing but contempt.

 

“Those children are our future.”

 

Those words were the clone’s epithet. He stepped backwards and once he was inside the storage depot, released the deadman switch.

 

There were over a dozen explosions in all. One followed after the other, casting balls of fire some three stories in the air. The building groaned as steel melted and building struts were reduced to so much dust. The night’s sky was awash in flame, as if the explosion had torn a hole down to hell itself.

 

Batgirl stood there watching, utterly unflinching as their one and only link to The Council was eradicated from the face of the earth. It would take Gotham PD weeks to sift through the remains, to find anything that resembled usable evidence. To Batgirl, those weeks might as well be decades. Batgirl knew, without bothering to look at any of her tools, that the clones had found and ditched the tracers she had planted, and now, nothing short of a miracle would allow her to pick up their trail.

 

The four of them stood there for a moment, soaking in the pure destruction that the clones soldiers had unleashed, all in the name of burning the bridge behind them. Though St. Clair and Nitobe would never say it aloud, they both saw the pile of devastated brick and mortar as a fitting testament to madness of the soldier clones.

 

The gathered heroes observed the shattered, smoldering building in silence for a moment, trying to decide what their next course of action might be.

 

“This all because of you,” St. Clair growled at Batgirl, “you let them get away! You screwed up what could have been a perfectly clean op! We could have ended this!”

 

Batgirl stood there for a moment, taking in the anger from St. Clair, and silent contempt she saw in the elder ninja.

 

Batgirl looked to towards the Interpol agent with a look of casual contempt, “I could say the same…to you.”

 

Manhunter stepped between the two women before the situation would escalate further, “Look, this isn’t going to get us anywhere. We all have our sources and now, more than ever, we need to use them. WE need to split up, pump them for information and hope to God we find something.”

 

“Agreed,” Batgirl spun on her heel and began to walk away.

 

“Hey, don’t you want to set up a rendezvous for later?”

 

Batgirl stopped, and then turned her head towards her allies with a smug yet grim look, “There’s nowhere in Gotham I won’t be able to find you.”

 

Batgirl sprinted away, and the second she was out of earshot, she activated her cowl’s radio.

 

“Oracle.”

 

“Receiving, Cass. How’d the mission go?”

 

“Poorly,” Batgirl’s tone managed to convey everything, “will brief later. But I…need something.”

 

“Name it.”

 

“Dig up info on Council. Everything anyone has. No matter how…”Batgirl gritted her teeth. She knew the word she wanted to say, yet…didn’t, it if it were just out of reach. It was infuriating in a small and embarrassing way, “…minor.”

 

“Will do. I’ll have the information ready for you when you get back to your cave. Anything else?”

 

“Yes. Do you have my location?”

 

“Always.”

 

“Where can I… find paper and pen?”

 

&&&

 

Batgirl came through the sewer entrance to her cave, and found her personal supercomputer waiting, with Oracle’s face on the screen.

 

Batgirl pulled out a sheet of paper and held it face down against her scanner, like Nightwing had taught her. The devise worked automatically and within a few moments, her drawing was up on the computer screen beside Oracle.

 

“Are these the kidnapped children you saw?” asked Barbara.

 

“Yes. Need you to run… comparison.”

 

Barbara examined the sketches for a moment, and observed how Cassandra’s impromptu sketches easily equaled the work of most professionals she had encountered.

 

“These are pretty good. You’re as good as any sketch artist I’ve ever seen, have you considered taking some art classes?”

 

“Oracle…” grated Batgirl.

 

“My program’s still running,” Barbara countered, “and don’t try to hush me, young lady. I don’t take that from Bruce and I won’t take it from you.”

 

Batgirl rubbed the bridge of her nose in annoyance.

 

“Okay, the program’s ready. Who do you want me to run the sketches against?”

 

Batgirl told her, and Oracle felt a foreboding chill run down her spine as she executed the program.

 

The digital comparisons came back inside of a minute, and the result surprised no one.

 

“You were right,” Oracle leaned back in her chair and breathed out as she realized the implications, “Wow…this explains so much. Especially how they came back the second time even though Bruce confirmed their deaths.”

 

“Just more… complic…problems,” Batgirl scowled.

 

“Yeah, that too,” Oracle shook her head, “now what?”

 

“You learn anything…new?”

 

“Actually, I did,” Oracle answered, “that gas the clones stole was meant to act as an experimental riot control gas for Arkham. Something to chew on.”

 

Cassandra gave Barbara an odd look.

 

“That means think about it,” Oracle explained, “I assume that you’re turning in for the night?”

 

“Yes, trail’s cold. Will look tomorrow,” Cassandra yawned, despite herself, “You find anything… extra I need know?”

 

“No, you’re up to speed,” corrected Oracle, “and you’re right. These guys have gone to ground and we won’t pick up the trail again tonight. Good night, kiddo. And Cassandra? Batman would be proud of your deduction. I know I am.”

 

“I let them get away,” Cassandra retorted, her face flush with anger “HE…wouldn’t be proud of that!”

 

“Some situations get worse before they get better,” Oracle replied, “Cain raised you to know the exact speciation of damn near every weapon on the planet. And we’ve both seen what a high velocity round can do to a child’s body.”

 

“That’s not good enough,” Cass answered.

 

“I’ll see if Nightwing can lend a hand, but have faith in yourself,” Oracle said, “I know Batman does.”

 

The screen went dead, and Cassandra was left alone with her thoughts.

 

&&&

 

As luck would have it, the next day was a weekend (something notable to Cassandra only in that there would be a rise in stupid kids on the street later tonight and she didn’t have to attend classes), which left Cassandra with nothing to do but stew over the past several days.

 

Cassandra spent the morning examining every file related to the Council that she could find. From the reports detailing their founding, to Batman’s first encounter with the Manhunter named Paul Kirk, to their seeming destruction at the hands of Black Adam, Cassandra poured over every scrap of information.

 

When Tatsu came down and delivered lunch, Cassandra barely flinched.

 

After several hours of research, Cassandra decided to spend the remainder of her time readying herself physically. Batgirl spent the time stretching her muscles, moving through several katas while she was wearing her Batgirl uniform, fully stocked with weapons. Something in her gut told her tonight would be her last chance to stop the Council and their clone soldiers and she had to be ready.

 

Roughly an hour and a half before sun down, Batgirl’s katas were interrupted by a katana that slid across the floor, the hilt coming to a smooth stop when it struck her heel.

 

“You’re doing it wrong,” Tatsu said plainly. Cassandra turned to face her guardian, and was a little surprised to see her wearing her old Outsiders uniform, albeit with the mask down.

 

Cassandra picked up the sword and unsheathed it slowly, testing its weight and balance.

 

“What mistake?” she asked defensively.

 

Katana assumed a fighting stance, “I think it would be better if I demonstrated.”

 

Batgirl moved flawlessly to block Katana’s opening swing, aimed at her shoulder. She then pulled back and swept her sword towards Tatsu’s neck, and was likewise blocked.

 

From there, the action was a blur. Cassandra moved on instinct, and to her mild surprise, Katana matched her step for step. Her foot work was flawless, and she wielded the sword as if it were simply can extension of her body. Cassandra, though wide eyed rookie, found herself pressed to keep up with her mentor’s skill.

 

After what felt like an hour (but in reality was five minutes) of carefully calculated parries, missed openings and skillful dodges, Tatsu brought her sword swinging towards Cassandra’s face, where it was blocked. The two heroines met eye to eye.

 

And then, suddenly, Tatsu looked away. Cassandra saw a mixture of shock and horror spread across her body, and instantly the sparring match was forgotten. Cassandra turned her head to see what Tatsu had seen, but saw nothing. By the time that registered in her mind, Cassandra was already careening to the floor.

 

“Your mistake, Cassandra, is tunnel vision,” Tatsu held the tip of her sword to Cassandra’s throat to emphasize her point, “what you failed to consider was that I know of your ability to read body language, and that I might be able to use that knowledge against you,” Tatsu sheathed her sword and helped Cassandra to her feet, “Sometimes, you need to look outside a situation to fully understand it.”

 

“Understand,” Cassandra nodded, and then paused, “To fool me…you channeled a memory, right?”

 

“That’s correct,” Tatsu confirmed.

 

“What… happened?” Cassandra asked uncomfortably. The memory Tatsu used…wasn’t pleasant.

 

Tatsu shook her head dismissively, “I’ll tell you one day, but not today. You already have enough to deal with. You need to be going.”

 

Cassandra paused for a moment, torn between leaving for patrol and doing what she felt she needed to do.

 

With child like hesitation, Cassandra reached out and hugged Tatsu in a way she’d seen hundreds of daughters hug their own mothers, but had never once done herself. Cassandra’s anxiety evaporated when Tatsu returned the hug, for which Cassandra was thankful, for several reasons. After all, she was never entirely certain what was really physically appropriate contact outside of a fight or a sparring match.

 

“Thank you,” Tatsu broke the hug “and remember what I said. Also, when you want a distraction, try visiting your friends instead of holing up underground.”

 

“It’s not a school day,” observed Cassandra matter of factly.

 

“So? You can associate with your friends outside school.”

 

“Oh…” Cassandra looked to the floor as she processed the idea. She then looked towards her guardian and softly, hesitantly asked, “…how?”

 

&&&

 

Asano Nitobe dressed himself in his jet-black gi, and placed his horned demon mask across his face with the reverence a Priest reserved for his robes. With his father’s sword strapped to his back, he met his comrades in the center of their rented warehouse, and made their way to the roof.

 

The trio had been hunting the remnants of the Council, and Paul Kirk’s clones for so long, they had developed something of a sixth sense for it. And each felt in their bones, that tonight would be the final battle of a war started so long ago.

 

When the trio reached the roof, Manhunter of Power Company was waiting. He tapped his foot impatiently as he stood next to their customized Apache helicopter.

 

“Sun went down ten minutes ago people, we’re burning moonlight,” said Manhunter.

 

“Don’t tempt us to burn something else,” St. Claire remarked.

 

“Any time, any place,” Manhunter shot back, “I’m not some inexperienced clone you can pick off at fifty yards at your leisure.”

 

“That’s enough Manhunter. We’re as sick of you as you are of us, lets get this over with,” Kolu Mbeya reached into his pocket and removed a tiny devise. Aiming it the helicopter, Mbeya waited until he heard a soft beep and then motioned for his teammates to board, “there, defenses off. You won’t get shocked now when you try to get in. Next time, wait instead of trying to pull some lame ass ninja trick.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Manhunter tucked his still healing hand under his elbow, “but lets roll out already.”

 

Mbeya slid the helicopter panel open and did a double take as he saw Batgirl calmly sitting there lotus style.

 

“I know where to find them.”

 

&&&

 

To the credit of it’s designer, the motor of the helicopter created half the noise of the average helicopter. Which unfortunately for Batgirl, meant that it wasn’t nearly loud enough to drown out her thoughts.

 

After her talk with Katana, everything fell into place for Batgirl. Why the clones wanted a riot gas, why Batman allowed such a thing, everything fit together like the perfect kata.

 

“Batgirl, report…!”

 

“Diversion,” Batgirl replied back into her cowl radio.

 

“You don’t even know what I’m talking about,” Oracle observed.

 

“There’s a team…at Arkham,” stated Batgirl, “holding it for ransom…decoy.”

 

“You’re right about the first part,” Oracle stated, “I’ve got Nightwing, Robin and about half the Gotham police department there now. I’m pretty sure this is your group, and they’re threatening to blow the cells. We need you over there, Cassandra. If they open the cells…”

 

“It’s a bluff,” Batgirl repeated, “handle it. I’m needed…elsewhere.”

 

“Cassand…” Batgirl terminated the link. She knew it was rude, but at the same time, recognized that she just didn’t have the time to effectively explain her reasoning. Not with her imperfect language skills. And worse, if she did actually manage to convince Oracle of her logic, the bluff at Arkham would become very real, this early into the operation.

 

“We’re coming up on the prison now. Looks like you were right, Batgirl,” Mbeya reported. No one missed the tremor in his voice.

 

Awaiting dead ahead was Blackgate Prison, home of Gotham’s more and more mentally stable (a relative term in Gotham) criminals. Build atop an island atoll, the prison was built to house three thousand criminals and took up the length of an entire city block. Four walls that were three stories high lined with barb wires kept the prison population inside and discouraged the average jail break. But for all its security and isolation, Blackgate’s security was barely a deterrent to those well versed in infiltration.

 

After all Batgirl came and went from the island as she pleased. Their security details were little more than an after-thought to someone who operated on her level.

 

And as she feared, Batgirl wasn’t the only one skilled enough to breach its defenses. She didn’t yet know the details, but judging from the giant barge sitting off the island docks, the hundreds of prisoners and guards who passively roamed the docks and small island shoreline together, she wasn’t the only one capable of seamlessly infiltrating the prison.

 

“They must have used the gas to bring them under their control,” St. Clair deduced.

 

“It’s a good place to hit,” Mahunter remarked, “well armed in case of riots, plenty of strong men, most of whom wouldn’t fight liberation too hard. Bet their plan is to head out to see with the best ones and those who don’t want to join up have to swim home.”

 

Batgirl nodded in agreement, not concerned with stating that she’d already deduced their plan two hours ago.

 

It had come to her when she decided to look at one of the components not from Batgirl’s perspective, but from Lex Luthor, of all people. Luthor had to know that Batman would never allow him to create a mind control gas. But Luthor also knew that Batman might forgive a gas meant to pacify Arkham Asylum, regular home of The Joker, Killer Croc, Scarecrow and countless others. Batgirl knew that her mentor would give almost anything to keep those monsters in their cells.

 

Batgirl and anyone who knew Batman knew that. And so Luthor preyed upon that desire. But he also overplayed his hand. Under casual inspection, the idea seemed solid. But Batgirl knew that those Arkham Asylum were often radically different. Inmates like the Joker and Killer Croc were chemically insane, there was no way even a genius like Lex Luthor could create a single gas to control them all.

 

No, Lex Luthor created a smoke screen that worked because Batman wanted to believe it and created it under his very nose, in Batman’s city.

 

Had she the time, Batgirl might have felt a small bit of pride at her deductions. But between the small army of criminals, six innocent hostages and clone warriors awaiting her, she just couldn’t muster the strength.

 

“Take us over. I’m getting out.”

 

Mbeya nodded and came in hard and fast. Batgirl swung open the side panel door, took one look at the horde now below her, and fell forward.

 

Next issue: The conclusion to Nature’s War!

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

Batgirl, in investigating the possible return of the terrorist organization known as The Council, stumbled it’s cloned soldiers who’re trying their best to resurrect their former organization. Unfortunately, she’s not the only one. Former allies of Paul Kirk, who gave his life to stop the Council the first time and a clone of the same hero have all converged, forcing Cassandra to ride herd on a team filled with petty grudges.

 

Thus far, the experience has been a failure. The clone soldiers have successfully kidnapped six children who, for reasons unknown, are vital to their plan to revive the Council. They have invaded Blackgate in search of additional soldiers and arranged a distraction to cover their activities.

 

All Cassandra Cain has to prevent a plan years in the making and now backed by hundreds of Gotham’s worst criminals besides herself…is a mix of allies she has learned not to trust.

**& &&**

**DC Infinity Presents**

**Batgirl # 11**

**Nature’s War**

**Conclusion**

**These Boys of Brazil**

**& &&**

_Gotham_ _, Blackgate Prison_

Batgirl swung her foot into the gut of the first criminal standing in front of her. They came as her as a human wave, and Batgirl knew that unless she acted fast she’d be overwhelmed by sheer numbers.

 

She reached into her utility belt and removed two whirl a blades. They looked like Hs curved inwardly and were connected to a small but powerful motors tied to special switches in Batgirl’s glove that could tell the shape of her hand. When held flat, the blades spun with enough force to cut through leather. But if they were in any other position, the blades remained perfectly still.

 

Batgirl allowed the blades to spin, and almost instantly the prison crowd jumped back. Mind controlled or not, a fear of blades was an instinct that ran back thousands of years and right now, it was all that prevented Batgirl from being overwhelmed.

 

Scanning the crowd, the Daughter of Cain looked for any hostages, any men who carried themselves with any authority. As luck would have it, she saw none. Everyone standing before her was a Gotham convict, not a Council minion.

 

In Batgirl’s mind, that was both a blessing and curse. She had jumped out of the helicopter in anticipation of hostages, that the clones had some form of insurance in the event they were discovered before they escaped.

 

Wracking her brain for a moment, Batgirl wondered what to make of that. Hostages were a good insurance policy in a situation like this and by now they had plenty of time to present them That there were no hostages either meant they were highly confident of their plan, or were rushed.

 

Batgirl hoped for the former, but suspected the latter was the case. The botched pickup last night likely spooked them and they moved up their timetable drastically, and that made them sloppy, careless in their rush to preserve their original plan.

 

Her enemy’s mix of caution and urgency was both a blessing and a curse to the young crime fighter. While she hadn’t found any hostages like she’d expected, her enemies were smart enough not to rely completely on the mind-control gas that they’d employed on the prison. There wasn’t a single gun to be seen, which made Batgirl’s problem a little simpler.

 

All she had to do now was fight her way pass hundreds of Gotham convicts to reach the barge sitting ninety yards away.

 

Just as that thought passed through her mind, the first convict screwed up his courage and charged. Batgirl readied herself, only to watch in shock as the man was thrown back, his shoulder exploding in a spray of bone and blood.

 

“No one dies,” hissed Batgirl as she replaced the blades in her utility belt, and exchanged them for a pair of stainless steel brass knuckles. In a situation like this, she didn’t have the time to be gentle.

 

“That depends on them, kid, it’s their choice,” answered Manhunter, smoke still wafting out of the barrel of his gun.

 

“No,” growled Batgirl as she punched aside the first criminal of hundreds, “it depends on you…and what state you want to leave Gotham in. Walking, or body cast. That is…your choice.”

 

Manhunter was still considering the threat when he turned around to face the six foot six giant who was bearing down on him. Kirk had his weapon raised, but watched in amazement as the giant suddenly fell forward, as if a light had been shut off in his brain.

 

Watching such a potentially dangerous foe fall should have been reassuring, but Manhunter tensed when he saw why the man had fallen.

 

“Cain,” Batgirl and Manhunter said the name at once, each with different emotion.

 

David Cain, world famous assassin, stood before them in a torn prison jumpsuit, two 45s in each hand dripping blood and sweating dripping off his face.

 

“If you killed anyone…” Batgirl started, but Cain raised his hands, motioning for calm.

 

“No one’s dead, sweetheart. I’ve got a few friends who tipped me off something was going to happen,” explained Cain hastily, “so I swiped a gas mask from the armory, just in case. You ought to thank me, too. I took out the team holding the hostages.”

 

“Fine,” Batgirl gritted her teeth and carefully weighed her options. Her father was one of the foremost fighters in the world, but she didn’t want to fight alongside him for a host of reasons, tactical and emotional. But as the saying Nightwing taught her, ‘beggars can’t be choosy’, “you can help…I need you to hold off…”

 

Batgirl swept her eyes across the battlefield and realized that St. Clair and Nitobe were nowhere to be seen. They hadn’t followed her…

 

For a brief moment, Batgirl wanted to die. She allowed her emotions to influence her into making mistake after mistake until there was only a slim window of opportunity for success. One that was closing quickly.

 

“I need… to get to that boat,” snapped Batgirl, “you two, give me cover!”

 

“That’s my girl,” smiled Cain.

 

“Your girl…?” Manhunter asked. He glanced back and forth between the two, noting their combat stances, the tension between them, “…explains a lot.”

 

Batgirl ignored him and thumbed her radio, “Oracle, respond!”

 

“I’m guessing you found something at Blackgate.”

 

“I found the Council,” Batgirl decked a man imprisoned for armed robbery as she and her allies inched closer to the boat, “I need two things from you.”

 

“Name it.”

 

“First, I need a King meet,” Batgirl let loose with three bataranges, “arrange for immediate contact for later relocation.”

 

“Done. What else?”

 

“I need you…to connect me…to a detective.”

 

&&&

 

Peter Akins shifted through dozens of declassified DEO records, hoping in vain to find something that might help him deal with the cloned corpse that had washed up several days earlier. It wasn’t as if there was a great deal of pressure to solve it from the higher ups. Cape cases had a reputation of either resolved themselves or stayed open until hell froze over. They weren’t expecting any miracles.

 

All the same, though, Akins didn’t like to just quit on a case. It was a nasty habit for any cop to get into, especially for a rookie detective trying to earn a little respect. Hard work would be the only way he could ever hope to escape the shadow cast over him because of his family lineage.

 

But determination in and of itself never produced clues, and Peter was close to smashing his computer in frustration when he heard his phone ring.

 

“Detective Akins…”

 

The Gotham Detective froze instantly. The more senior detectives said that you never forgot the voice of a ‘Bat’, and Peter now knew they weren’t kidding.

 

“Batgirl…” for a moment, Detective Akins considered taking an aggressive stance, to demand answers of the mysterious vigilante.

 

But then he remembered that not only were they on the same side, he had no leads whatsoever.

 

“…go ahead. Did you find something?”

 

“Blackgate,” Batgirl drove her elbow into a three year prisoner who had more tattoos on his arms than hair on his head, “it’s been…compromised.”

 

“What!” Peter barely noticed how half the squad had turned their head at his outburst, “that’s impossible! There are a million protocols…”

 

“And they were expertly… compromised. Tell…someone,” Batgirl drop kicked another convict, and tried to remember what she’d practiced earlier, “…spin it. Say you got a tip. Just get people here, now!”

 

Batgirl terminated the connection as she downed another convict. While she was confident that Detective Akins would eventually rally Gotham PD to Blackgate, she was under no illusions how long that might take. There would be no quick rescue, no quick save to even the odds. If anything, all she had done was, possibly prevent a mass escape when this was all over.

 

The trio of martial artists moved through the crowd like a brutally efficient machine. Batgirl led the charge, softening the mob up with a flurry of smoke pellets and flares, followed up by blows of the world’s greatest martial artist. Manhunter covered their back with his enhanced strength, bundhi dagger and as last resort, modified luger. Cain, one of the world’s greatest assassins and expert hand to hand combatant, covered them both.

 

It took the three of them a full ten minutes to make their way to the dock. Ten minutes of combat that made every last one of them sweat bullets. Even warriors of their caliber had limits.

 

“Defend the …uhh…” Batgirl drove her elbow into a felon’s face as she struggled for the right word. Even in pitch battle, she self conscious about it seemed as if she could remember the word she was looking for, yet couldn’t seem to actually grasp it.

 

“Catwalk, baby girl,” David Cain answered for her, “that I can do. You and Manhunter hurry though, I’m good, but I’m still an old man.”

 

Batgirl and Manhunter didn’t have to be told twice. They raced up the catwalk. Cain took a deep breath, and then regarded the gathered criminals through narrowed eyes.

 

“Ya know…there just might be enough of you to make this a fair fight.”

 

&&&

 

The moment Batgirl’s foot touched the metal deck of the freighter, she was scanning the area for Christine St. Clair and Asano Nitobe. The two had doubtlessly reached the freighter before them, but Batgirl didn’t think that two experienced operators like St. Clair and Nitobe would enter into a scenario where they had enemies at both their back and front, if it could possibly be avoided. And since they had no interest in preventing what was going to happen to the kidnapped children, only ending it, they could wait.

 

So both Batgirl Manhunter eyed the bridge, the perfect’s sniper’s nest, for any movement, any shadow out of place. Just as Batgirl switched her mask lenses infrared, she saw the muzzle fire of a high powered rifle, heard several distinctive –spak!- and watched as Manhunter, his chest covered in blood, crumbled to the deck.

 

Batgirl grabbed the fallen clone and dragged him to cover behind a nearby air vent. It wasn’t easy, there wasn’t an ounce on Manhunter’s body that wasn’t muscle, and bullets slammed into the deck around her, but Batgirl shrugged off the danger. First, the rounds were sub-sonic, something her uniform could stop if need be, and second if St. Clair wanted to hit her, she’d have done it already.

 

“Burns a little…” grunted Manhunter.

 

Batgirl nodded. St. Clair and Nitobe had experience hunting Paul Kirk clones, so it was no surprise that they developed special weapons for hurting them.

 

Batgirl withdrew the sharpest knife she had in her belt, and handed it to the clone, “Get the bullets out. I’ll deal with them.”

 

“Good luck.”

 

Batgirl leapt out from behind the vent and sprinted towards the bridge. Bullets pinged all around her, but the Daughter of Cain knew how to evade even the best sniper. She bobbed and weaved, and changed her pace randomly so that the sniper couldn’t simply aim where she would be.

 

Though such tactics on more open ground might not have worked, Batgirl only had to cross two hundred and knew instinctively that the sniper wasn’t trying to kill her, just ward her off.

 

Still, Batgirl preferred to be careful. She removed the final smoke pellet from her belt and pitched it towards St. Clair’s sniper’s nest. Within seconds the entire bridge was covered in a thick, choking smoke.

 

The cloud would linger for several minutes, but that was more than enough time for her reach the bridge and slip below deck.

 

Batgirl had just begun to reach for the hatch door when she realized that it had been too easy. She saw something out of the corner of her eye, but by the time she realized what it was, it was too late.

 

A weighted chain wrapped itself around her, and Batgirl felt herself jerked backwards.

 

Asano Nitobe’s sword glimmered in the moonlight, and Batgirl stepped aside at the last moment, just barely avoiding a strike that would have disabled her left side. Nitobe might not have been aiming to kill, but he definitely wasn’t pulling his punches.

 

Which was fine with Batgirl. The events of the past several days did not leave her inclined to be merciful.

 

Nitobe expected her to pull away, So Batgirl stepped forward and head-butted the ninja, breaking his demon mask in half. Her enemy retaliated with a solid kick to the mid riff that she couldn’t dodge in time.

 

Batgirl fell on her back, while Nitobe lunged at her with his sword again. If he intended to disembowel her or inflict a fatal wound to force her to withdraw, the daughter of Destruction had no intention of finding out. She swung her legs up, and Nitobe’s eyes bulged behind his mask when she caught his sword _perfectly_ _between her boots_ and held it there like a vice.

 

The World War 2 era ninja stumbled, giving Batgirl enough time to swing the blade to the side and then rolled back, clipping Nitobe in the face with her boot.

 

Leaping to her feet, Batgirl released a snap kick that floored the elder martial artist, knocking him on his back. Batgirl, not one to waste an opening, flipped head over heels and her boot down on Asano’s stomach, knocking him into unconsciousness.

 

Batgirl slid the chains off easily, and used them to hog tie the elder ninja, followed up by breaking a gas pellet under his nose. While that might have been considered extreme with anyone else, Batgirl knew that it took at least this much effort to slow her down.

And when children’s lives were at stake, it was impossible for Cassandra or Batgirl to even consider taking unnecessary chances.

 

&&&

 

_Gotham_ _Central Rail Station_

 

On the average day, Gotham’s rails had hundreds of passengers inside it’s historical walls. Though few came to Gotham for pleasure, in fact Gotham’s percentage for visiting tourists was twenty percent less than other cities of equal or greater size, it was still a major hub and business was always brisk. There were always businessmen who worked with Wayne Enterprises, tourists foolish enough to be enticed by Gotham’s seedy underbelly and today, one lost young woman who once considered herself a heroine, despite the disgusting villainy of certain family members.

 

As she stepped off the train, she felt like Daniel in the Lion’s den, only without any divine protection. It had been days since she had really had a good night’s sleep, hunted by a shadow she knew to be there. She’d come to Gotham looking for help from an old friend but as she began to drift through the station, the young woman began to realize she had no idea how to contact her.

 

And when she did find her, what would she say? What would she do?

 

Stumbling like a zombie out of the station, she clutched to the small thread of hope, that she actually could find her friend in this city of millions, before it was too late.

 

&&&

 

“What’s happening?”

 

“Why are am I here? Where’s my dad?”

 

“…please, I didn’t do anything, let me go, I’ll be good!”

 

“Please, I know this is scary,” answered Peter in his calmest, most reassuring voice that he could muster, “but I just ask that you trust me. I don’t intend to hurt any of you.”

 

His reassurances were as effective as a piece of paper acting as a bullet proof vest. The kids, terrified almost out of their minds, continued to beg and plead for freedom. And though Peter truly believed in what he was doing, their cries burned his heart. He was not an evil man by any means.

 

“They will thank you when this is over,” Peter reminded himself, believing every word.

 

The clone of Manhunter checked the equipment three times now, and despite the fact that he only vaguely believed in a God greater than The Council, found himself praying without even realizing it.

 

He was in the cargo hold, the only open area on the boat large enough to contain the equipment for the final phase of their operation. The six boys that they’d recovered (kidnapped implied immorality) where strapped to six chairs, their heads shaved and specially designed helmets placed carefully on their young heads. Behind the boys, specially designed CPUs and servers sat, going through intricate diagnostics before it began its original purpose. The margin for error was non-existent, not for what these computers were designed for.

 

Peter had done this already once before, and that’s what worried him. He and his brothers had resurrected their masters, The Council, once already and it had all been for naught. Black Adam and his allies had crushed them effortlessly, and even if they succeeded now The Council would be weaker than it ever had been.

 

A bullet rushed past Peter’s ear and he instantly flew into action. He grabbed his side arm, calculated where the sniper had to be and opened fire.

 

St. Clair, who made her sniper’s next atop one of the many containers in the cargo hold, rolled to the side and into the thick shadows. Though St. Clair’s law enforcement training didn’t cover stealth much, Nitobe had been kind enough to give her a few pointers.

 

Unfortunately, the clone of Paul Kirk had been amongst the first created, and had trained with Asano Nitobe extensively. He expected her to take refuge in the darkness, and fired shot after shot. None of them came too close to her, but the Interpol agent could feel her enemy drawing closer with each shot, and knew she couldn’t stay hidden forever.

 

Peter, in the heat of the moment, expended his magazine faster than he anticipated, not bothering to count his shots, and like an amateur, froze with it clicked empty.

 

St. Clair sprang into action, leaping from the shadows, leveling her high powered rifle at Peter’s head…and then stopped.

 

The clone was in her sights, but St. Clair realized that the high caliber bullets that she was using would easily tear through its grey matter and hit one of the children.

 

 

“Why did you kidnap those kids?” St. Clair demanded as she tried to inch into a better position. She hoped that if she could buy enough time, she might be able to subtly get into a better position to take him out without collateral that hadn’t even started second grade.

 

“Like I would ever tell an enemy like…”

 

“They’re the Council…” Batgirl’s voice echoed through the cargo hold, “contingency plan. When… if died…their memories would be uploaded into younger bodies.”

 

Despite herself, Christine St. Clair glanced towards the children, and recalled the files on the Council. Their entire life’s history had been extensively documented when they’d fallen and the faces of those boys, bound to metal examination chairs, brought on a case of major déjà vu. Her memory wasn’t perfect, but Christine had an easy time believing Batgirl.

 

All of a sudden, it clicked into place. The Council had perfected cloning, that much was obvious from their creation of Paul Kirk clones. But transferring their minds, their memories and everything else, a feat like that had to be a hundred times harder. So instead of using it for themselves, they used it as a failsafe.

 

“Clones….” Christine breathed, “it always comes back to clones with the Council.”

 

“Are you going to kill them?” asked Batgirl, still secure in her shadows.

 

“What? No!” St. Claire snapped, her weapon still leveled at Peter, “what kind of monster do you think I am?!”

 

“Those boys, aren’t much older…than the clones you killed,” Batgirl answered evenly, “the Council fell…eight years ago. Their oldest soldier…could only be ten. Maybe twelve…no matter what they…look like.”

 

“I…I…” for a brief second, Christine St. Clair felt her rage at the Council, the people who’d turned her father against her and ultimately killed him and then taken her lover, slide away as she realized what Batgirl was saying. To her shame, she could think of no defense.

 

And seeing her hesitation, Peter lunged forward. His smacked her sniper rifle away with his right hand and nailed her in the face with his elbow.

 

But St. Clair had barely begun to fall when Peter felt two steel toed boots clip his skull. Even with his healing factor, his vision swam and his body refused to answer his commands.

 

“Stand down,” Batgirl snarled, “or I will make you.”

 

“I don’t think so,” Peter replied, “I think that you had to fight through that mob we have mind controlled out there and since I don’t see sensei here, I bet you had to take him down too. I’d bet that you’re exhausted right now, that’s why you let me take down St. Clair. I know I’m a little worn, and I have a healing factor that keeps me moving.”

 

Batgirl said nothing. She didn’t bother to refute the clone’s assertion, because he was completely right. She muscles ached and answered her only with a great deal of argument while every breath she took felt as if there wasn’t enough air in the world. Perfect conditioning, strong body language and breathing exercises masked this all from casual observation, but not common sense. Batgirl was far from spent, but she wasn’t in peak condition either.

 

In contrast, her foe was constantly in peak condition and while he couldn’t match her in skill, he could certainly wear her down.

 

Batgirl realized that she couldn’t afford to hold back, and removed two razor sharp batarangs from her belt, and clenched them in her hands. The edges of the weapons protruded from each end of her fist.

 

Peter drew a combat knife from his boot, flipped it into a reverse grip in his left hand, and stalked forward.

 

Peter threw the first blow, with the blade in his left hand aimed at Batgirl’s shoulder, but it was little more than a feint. As Batgirl stepped back to avoid the attack, his right fist came rocketing towards her head.

 

Batgirl swung her left hand upwards to meet the attack, and embedded her batarang in her foe’s wrist, and the momentum wedged the four forty surgical steel deeper into his arm, only stopping when it was fully between the ulna and radius. The fist stopped only a breath away from her face, but Batgirl didn’t flinch.

 

She swung her right hand and caved a deep slice into Peter’s belly while she twisted the batarang lodged in his wrist. Primal instincts took over and Peter tore his arm free, blood gushing from the wound.

 

Batgirl gave him no quarter, slamming the palms of both fists into the wound she’s just opened. Peter crossed his arms in an X formation to defend the wound, and left himself exposed when Batgirl kicked him right above the knee with her steel toed heel.

 

The blow forced Peter to drop his defense, to stagger about as pain lanced through his body.

 

Batgirl lunged forward and swung both batarangs towards Peter, sinking them into his flesh several inches beneath the armpit, straight into a very sensitive nerve bundle.

 

Peter howled in unimaginable pain and though Batgirl never hesitated, she hated herself for what she did next. She then twisted the weapons down, and used them to pull Peter into a head-butt that broke his nose and sent blood streaming down the clone’s face.

 

Peter, literally blind from the pain, lashed out instinctively and got lucky. He connected with a right cross that snapped Batgirl’s head to the side.

 

The young crime-fighter stumbled backwards and fell to one knee, trying to blink the spots away from her vision. It was as if the entire night’s physical extension had come back all at once. Fighting through a mob of criminals, overwhelming Nitobe, it all came back with a single, solid punch.

 

When she finally looked up, she saw that after all she had reigned down upon him, her foe was still standing, clutching wounds that had almost completely healed.

 

Batgirl did a mental inventory of her weapons and found herself wondering, just how far would she go to win? She had twice the amount of explosives she needed to take off both his arms and legs, she had the skill, but she didn’t need Batman here to tell her that she’d be crossing a line there. Worse, the children had a perfect view. She didn’t know what effect seeing a man’s limb blown off would have on them, but she knew it wouldn’t be pleasant.

 

As if she didn’t have enough to deal with, Batgirl saw St. Clair beginning to stir out of the corner of her eye. And she knew that if she waited too long, St. Clair might become involved in the fight, and either end up dead or end up killing Peter. Neither was acceptable to the young crime-fighter, but she could feel her options slipping away.

 

Batgirl looked at the captive children, and then back to Peter, and realized that she still had one card to play.

 

“I’ll stand aside,” Batgirl offered with the outward appearance of sincerity but possessing none of the spirit, “…if you look those boys in the eye…and tell them why they deserve to die.”

 

Both St. Clair and Peter took a step back, but for different reasons. St. Clair wanted to say something, but wisely choose to remain quite. She didn’t need a neon sign to tell her Batgirl had a plan in mind, and for now, she’d let the young woman play her hand.

 

“I have no intention of killing them!” shouted Peter, “I’m just opening their eyes to their destiny!”

 

“You’re killing them,” Batgirl corrected, “you’re erasing their personalities and replacing them with the memories of the first Council.”

 

“Their personalities won’t be erased!” Peter snapped, “their memories will just be…be overlain…!”  


“Is that how you rationalize it?” St. Clair climbed to feet, but refrained from any hostile movements, preferring to give Batgirl’s strategy a chance, “the minds of eighty year old men would drown any child, and you know that!”

 

“Shut up!” Peter’s hands trembled for his weapons, but he refused to attack, not like this. All his life, he believed in the moral righteousness of The Council. He knew that he served them not because of learned obedience, but because they were a force for good in the world.

 

“Did you even give…them a choice?” asked Batgirl, “it’s their lives!”

 

“No, it’s their destiny!” Peter roared, his face bright red with anger, “they are the tools that will save this world!”

 

“They’re kids!” St. Clair snapped.

 

“I will not be lectured by you!” Peter pointed an accusing finger at the Interpol agent, “you, who hunt down my brothers to ‘honor’ a dead man! You, who treat us as pale shades of Paul Kirk, undeserving of life! Like flies to be swatted! Don’t you dare lecture me!”

 

“You choose…to serve…the Council?” asked Batgirl.

 

“Of course! I’m not some drone like my brothers! I made a choice and I know in my heart why I serve!”

 

“You were born with a choice,” Batgirl said softly and then pointed to the children Peter held, “you made yours. So why…are you trying to take it from them?”

 

“I…that’s not…” the clone warrior found himself paralyzed with indecision, no longer able to justify his actions to himself.

 

Batgirl watched as doubt spread across his face, and wondered if her words had truly had an impact, or had merely brought to the surface the struggle within his own conscience.

 

“You are your own person,” Batgirl said evenly, “not a shade…not a flawed copy. You are…you. And only you can decide…if you become a murderer.”

 

  1. Clair waited with baited breath, but with each second that passed Batgirl began to feel more and more confident. Peter’s body language began to whisper doubt, followed by waves of guilt and shame, though all anyone they were little more than ripples across his face.



 

Finally, Batgirl could see that the battle that raged within Peter had been decided as the clone’s posture became straighter, his demeanor taking on a hard edge.

 

Batgirl tensed for a moment, well aware of how mercurial human nature could be. Peter certainly seemed to be a good man, at least in his own mind but he might have decided that he was already done too much to change his ways now, or decided that his loyalty to The Council outweighed any sin they might ask of him.

 

But Batgirl’s doubts evaporated when Peter looked at her, and just nodded, almost unperceivable.

 

“I’ll make this right,” said the clone.

 

Batgirl stepped aside and motioned for Peter to pass.

 

“Are you insane?!” St. Clair shouted, “stop him!”

 

“I don’t like you lecturing me either,” growled Batgirl. Christine St. Clair said nothing in reply, but made no move to stop Peter.

 

When he reached the controls for the memory upload machine that had been intended to revive his former masters, Peter found he almost wanted to cry. He was never a man to ignore his conscience, but he was prided himself on his loyalty, his stiff upper chin in the face of adversity.

 

When the first Council fell, he was personally responsible for its phoenix rise. His masters were willing to lavish any rewarded upon him, but all he asked then was to be allowed to continue his duties faithfully.

 

Now, he found himself acting as their executioner.

 

He pressed a single button, and the bonds holding the children in place released. The six young boys scrambled off the seats as if their lives depended on it.

 

“It’s okay now,” Batgirl reassured the children, “please…come with me.”

 

The children packed together, and didn’t budge. Batgirl wasn’t terribly surprised. Though she wasn’t that experienced socially with children, she suspected that a costume intended for both stealth and intimidation wasn’t exactly reassuring to young children.

 

“It’s alright now,” St. Clair said in her most reassuring voice, “she won’t hurt you. We’re here to get you out.”

 

Batgirl scowled beneath her mask about how easily the children flocked to St. Clair, who under different circumstances might have hunted the children down and killed them.

 

“Peter, are you coming?” asked Batgirl. She didn’t like that look he had on his face.

 

“No, someone must…see to the Council’s legacy,” answered the clone, “you have forty minutes.”

 

“You don’t have to stay,” Batgirl offered, “it isn’t worth your life.”

 

“My entire creation, my life, has been a lie. Allow me this one truth. Please.”

 

Batgirl turned to go, with a heavy heart. As much as it gnawed at her conscience, she didn’t have it in her to stop Peter’s suicide. She was too tired, and more to the point, she knew that even if she saved him now, he would just seek out his own death later and possibly in a more dangerous fashion. Batgirl knew from personal experience that the only way to overcome a death-wish was to look death in the face…and then make a choice.

 

She made her choice long ago. Now she could only hope that Peter would make the right choice when his moment came.  

 

  1. Clair and Batgirl led the children out of the hold silently, and then they reached the deck she motioned for them to stop.



 

Batgirl glanced around the barge, and saw the familiar red and blue of Gotham PD beginning to arrive at Blackgate. She motioned for the children to stop.

 

“I need to take them…out of here,” Batgirl stated, “it’s not safe. You need to warn…the police about what will happened.”

 

“Alright,” St. Clair sighed, “look, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry…”

 

“Save it,” Batgirl growled, “make sure the police are clear. After that…I never want to see any of you… in Gotham again. If I do…it will be unpleasant.”

 

  1. Clair, though far from intimidated, just nodded. All things considered, she wasn’t surprised by the animosity Batgirl held for her, and now that the Council was finally finished, she saw no more need to play nice with the cape and cowl crowd. Truth be told, she never wanted to return to Gotham. The city held too many memories, too much history. It was finally time to move on.



 

“Come with me,” Batgirl ordered the children, “we need to leave, now.”

 

The young boys, to whom Batgirl seemed to be some terrible specter who might eat their face if they got any closer, refused to budge.

 

“You can trust me,” said Batgirl, as she wracked her brains how she might convince them of that fact. She didn’t want them to know that they were young clones of evil scientists and that people in the government would doubtlessly seek to exploit their genius in amazingly unethical ways, “I’ll take you home, I promise.”

 

“Can’t we wait for the police?” asked one of the smarter boys.

 

“It’s okay kiddo, she’s with us.”

 

When Batgirl heard the voice, she had to resist the urge to spin around and break the speaker’s jaw. Batgirl glanced over her shoulder and saw David Cain, her father, approaching in a stolen policeman’s uniform. At first she wanted to know how he got it, but then she saw how the children instinctively reacted to Cain. Unaware of the deception, these frightened boys began to relax.

 

As much as she hated it, she needed Cain now. And he knew it.

 

“It’s very complicated and I don’t have the time to explain it here,” Batgirl watched as Cain moved just like a cop, casual authority in every step, “plus, I’m sure you all want to get home, I bet your parents are worried sick!”

 

The boys nodded or weakly replied in affirmation, a lifetime of being taught to instinctively obey authority figures quickly taking over. The boys followed Cain, one of the deadliest assassins in the world, with barely a second thought.

 

“There’s a lifeboat over there,” Cain pointed, “we’ll use that.”

 

Batgirl nodded in affirmation, but said nothing.

 

“Hey, wait up!” The father and daughter duo turned their head to see Kirk Depaul sprinting towards them, “I need to hitch a ride. Gotham PD isn’t that fond of me, and I’d just as soon avoid the hassle.”

 

“I’ll handle this,” Batgirl told her father, “give me a minute.”

 

“Understood,” Cain waved the children towards the lifeboat as Batgirl stepped in Manhunter’s way.

 

“Hey, what’s…”

 

Batgirl punched the clone in the throat first, followed up by slamming her foot into his groin and finished when she rammed her elbow into his face.

 

“You’re still working for Luthor,” said Batgirl, her voice low and deadly, “that’s how those…mercenaries found the meeting location. That’s how you got the…mind control gas.”

 

Manhunter wiped some blood away from his mouth, “I don’t know what…”

 

Batgirl’s next punch loosened three teeth.

 

“Okay, okay…!” Manhunter spat a glob of blood on the deck, “yeah, I did Luthor a favor. He’s not a man you say no to, and I’m not inclined to spend the rest of my life running from them. Win-win.”

 

“Get out of my sight…” Batgirl growled, “and don’t ever…”

 

“Come back to Gotham, yeah I know. Daddy Bat give me the same speech,” Manhunter waved his hand through the air dismissively, “no one comes to Gotham because they have to.”

 

&&&

 

Cain lowered the lifeboat into the water, and Batgirl supplied a code that would broadcast a secret black-ops military code that basically translated into ‘keep away’. As they left Blackgate behind, Batgirl saw how dozens upon dozens of Swat and Gotham PD swarmed the island and began wraggling the hundreds of felons that had been released.

 

Surprisingly, that didn’t look nearly as hard as it sounded. According to Cain (though Batgirl hadn’t asked), whatever was controlling the prison began to wear off and had a side effect of pacifying those exposed to it. Criminals and guards alike milled about, uncertain of anything.

 

Batgirl directed her father, using as few words as possible, to a dock on the edge of Gotham. When Cain pulled the boat, he saw Black Canary, Green Arrow and Batman waiting on the dock.

 

“Oracle told me everything,” Batman said to Batgirl without formalities, “we can take it from here.”

 

Batgirl nodded. After the universal crisis, her mentor, along with a number of other super heroes, had seized control of the spy agency known as Checkmate and begun running it themselves. Though Cassandra was still uncertain of what to make of this change, today she was grateful for it. Batgirl knew instinctively that there were only a few people in the world she could trust with a half dozen preteen super geniuses.

 

“Come on kids, we’ll get you back where you belong!” Green Arrow’s smile came easy, and the children flocked to the modern day Robin Hood and began to ask him a barrage of questions about his career. The scary Bats, their fears about what was happening, everything was swept aside by seeing the Emerald Archer, “and if you ask nice, I’ll show you a few bow tricks!”

 

“You’re welcome,” grunted David Cain.

 

“I believe you are done here, Cain,” Batman’s growl was almost animalistic. The contempt Batman felt for the aged killer, on a bad day, was even greater than the contempt he felt for the Joker. Not only had David Cain brutally killed a woman Batman loved and framed Bruce Wayne for the murder, but he had abused his daughter for eight long years under the pretense of ‘training’. At least The Joker had the excuse of being completely insane. David Cain was just a ruthless bastard, in Batman’s eyes.

 

Batgirl stood midway between the two, uncertain of what she should feel, let alone say.

 

But Cain wasn’t about to make the daughter he loved choose between them. He turned towards his daughter, nodded, and then pulled the boat out to open waters. Batgirl knew that come sunrise, Cain would be back in his jail cell.

 

“Oracle tells me you prevented the return of The Council,” Batman said evenly, “good work.”

 

For a moment, Cassandra’s heart pounded. Praise from Him was rare, and it always made her feel like she’d accomplished something.

 

But then she remembered how St. Clair and her entourage had killed countless Paul Kirk clones, how they ran them down like dogs and shot them in the street. This happened in Gotham, and Batman did nothing.

 

“About St. Clair…” Batgirl began.

 

“I was wrong,” Batman finished the thought for her, “I know that now. I am sorry. It won’t happen again.”

 

Before, Batgirl could never imagine Batman saying those words to anyone, let alone her. But now, after everything, it brought her an odd sense of satisfaction, of vindication.

 

“What happens to them…now?”

 

Batman glanced towards the young children swarming around Green Arrow, “We’ll track down the foster families they were originally placed with. Explain it to those who can handle it, lie to those who can’t. If things go right, they’ll just have normal lives likely followed by extraordinary careers in science. Whatever they choose to do with their lives, it’s really up to them.”

 

All this blood, sweat and tears, all this effort, just for six children to be able to choose their own lives, free to live their lives how they saw fit, despite the will of others to use them as pawns in evil schemes. Batgirl reflected on that for a moment, and felt unusually satisfied.

 

Next Issue: Cassandra spends a day at school, gets a new advisor…and we learn just who the blond heroine is. Be here for Justice’s Salvation!

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**& &&**

**DC Infinity Presents**

**Batgirl # 12**

**Salvation Run**

**“Harsh Wind.”**

**Part 1**

**& &&**

_Thomas_ _Wayne High School, Gotham City_

 

Marnie Herrs glanced at the clock in her office, and then drummed her fingers impatiently. Her appointment was already ten minutes later with no sign that she was on her way, and considering the girl was her responsibility, it was a little embarrassing. Another three minutes past, and that’s when Marnie knew it was time to take action and bring the teenager to her, “I’m sorry, Cassandra’s usually very good about being on time. And when she’s not, I generally know where she is.”

 

“I understand,” replied the young woman, “time can fly when you’re studying.”

 

“Ironically, she’s not supposed to actually be studying,” Marnie pushed her chair back and stood up, “would you please excuse me for a moment? I think I know where our wayward student is. I’ll just be a moment.”

 

“Take your time, please. I’m in no rush.”

 

Marnie Herrs walked out of the counselor’s wing at a brisk pace. Her newest charge was an odd one in many ways and though she supposed that a new student missing an appointment should bother her, she just didn’t have it in her to actually be annoyed. Most likely because said student was always polite, obedient and striving to improve herself wherever she could.

 

And that’s how Marnie knew to search the library, and found her quarry. Sitting at one of the library’s tables and staring at a book with undisguised frustration was Cassandra Cain. Marnie could hear the girl whispering as she attempted to sound out the words.

 

“Cassandra, I thought we talked about this,” Marnie’s tone was kind and gentle, but Cassandra still jumped as if struck.

 

“Ms. Herrs…” Cassandra looked at her counselor, and then at the clock on the wall. Her heart fell into her stomach when she realized just how late it was, how she hadn’t even sensed anyone approaching and how effortlessly she was caught breaking the rules. At that moment, Cassandra felt so very small, “…I was…”  

 

“Trying to study, I know,” Marnie pulled out a chair and sat down next to Cassandra. She gently laid her hand on the younger woman’s shoulder, and Cassandra could plainly see the compassion, sympathy and slight annoyance in her teacher’s eyes, “but we talked about this. Without the proper help, you’re not doing yourself any good. At best you’re wasting your time and at worst you’re setting yourself back.”

 

Cassandra looked down, unable to look the older woman in the face.

 

“I really do appreciate that you’re trying to learn,” Marnie reached over and closed the book, a thick dictionary Cassandra had chosen at random. The sound of the thick book slamming closed echoed like a gunshot in Cassandra’s ears. She’d barely read even three words… “But you need to let us help you with that. Otherwise you’re not doing yourself any good.”

 

“Sorry,” Cassandra said weakly.

 

“There are worst offenses,” Marnie smiled, “just don’t let it happen again. Now, I need you to come with me. Remember what we talked about last week?”

 

Cassandra nodded half heartily. The school had a program of establishing adult mentors for students. While Cassandra could see how that might help other students, for her it just meant that there was someone else in her life that she had to lie to. While Cassandra knew the necessity of the deception, such lies just weren’t in her nature.

 

All the same, Cassandra faked a happy smile and went with Marnie to her office. Marnie had repeated what she said a week before, about how an adult mentor could help her adjust and a million other things Cassandra just didn’t care about. After all, no matter what they experienced, how could any adult mentor remotely relate to what she did every night as Batgirl? Cassandra doubted that they could even relate to her training, much less her life.

 

Ironically, when Marnie opened the door to her office and introduced her guest and Cassandra’s mentor, it took all the young woman’s training not to yelp in surprise.

 

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Cassandra” Barbara Gordon Grayson extended her hand warmly, “I’ve heard a lot of good things about you.”

 

“It’s…good to meet you, too…Barbara,” Cassandra never realized how alien Oracle’s real name sounded coming from her lips.

 

“No one expects you to face your unique burdens alone,” Ms. Herrs explained, because she knew that Cassandra had ignored her earlier, “that’s why we like to pair up students with adult mentors who’ve been through similar, unusual traumatic events.”

 

“I was crippled by The Joker,” Barbara explained, while her body language read ‘ _play along_ ’, “and my father was the police commissioner of Gotham for over a decade. I can promise that you’ll find my experience helpful, Cassandra.”

 

“I…guess so,” Cassandra’s mind reeled as she tried to process what was happening. What was Oracle doing here? Why this deception?

 

“Normally, I’d like to talk a few things over with the both of you, but it’s getting late,” Marnie glanced at Cassandra, “your guardian called me earlier to say that sh’d already spoken to Barbara about a ride home. I guess you lucked out, since that gives you time to know each other better.”

 

Cassandra looked at Babs, then grumbled, “…perfect.”

 

&&&

 

“What are you doing…here?” Cassandra barely waited until the two were inside of Barbara’s van before demanding answers.

 

“Why, don’t want me here?” Barbara asked innocently as she started the van. Naturally, the van was designed to accommodate her disability, and Oracle started it as easily as she might a computer.

 

“…yeah,” muttered Cassandra. She didn’t know how better to express or explain herself, but saw that Oracle understood her perfectly.

 

“It’s okay, I understand,” Barbara pulled out of the parking lot, “I know how it is. School is the only place you can get away from home, build your own little slice of life as it were. Don’t worry, I promise not to horn in on you here.”

 

“Thank you,” Cassandra wasn’t entirely sure she understood what Oracle said, but it certainly felt right, “so…why are you…here?”

 

“I hacked the systems so that we could have some civilian contact,” Barbara explained, “this way, no one will bat an eye when they see us associating together. Plus, by hanging around me and Dick, we create a plausible reason for you to start associating with Bruce, when he’s in town.”

 

“Oh.” Cassandra tried to process the implication. She understood perfectly the idea of a secret identity, but emotionally she only had the smallest grasp. The idea that she could now socially be seen with Oracle without rising suspicion hadn’t really occurred to her.

 

The ride became quiet, as Cassandra had no experience with small talk and less patience for it, something Oracle knew all too well. It was probably one of the few bad habits that she had in common with her mentor that she didn’t actually learn from the man. 

 

After a short, silent ride, they pulled up in front of Cassandra’s townhouse. Barbara parked in an open space, and then turned to Cassandra.

 

“You know, I talked with your counselor earlier. She said you’ve been having some trouble with your reading,” Oracle said, her voice soft and understanding, “I could help you with that after class, if you’d like.”

 

Cassandra looked at the other woman, and knew that the offer was genuine and selfless. But there was a certain part of Oracle that seemed to insist that Cassandra take her help, that such a thing was a given fact.

 

And after all this time, Cassandra found that the presumption still cut her to the quick.

 

“You don’t understand…what it’s like…” Cassandra half muttered, half growled, “when something that should…work…doesn’t.”

 

“Cassandra,” Oracle pointed to her legs and smiled good-naturedly, “I know exactly what it’s like.”   

 

“That…that’s different!” Cassandra snarled without realizing it. Oracle’s constantly inability to understand burst a damn in Cass’ heart and anger spilled forth unchecked, “legs are body! What…you are, can be fixed…”, Cassandra flung the door open and then pointed at her head, “Brain is who…you are. And if that’s broken…so are you. Can’t be fixed!”

 

Cassandra slammed the door and stormed away before another word could be said, leaving a very apologetic Oracle behind.

 

&&&

 

_Later_

 

Tatsu knocked softly on Cassandra’s door.

 

“Are you there, tenshi?”

 

“It’s just me,” Cassandra answered through the door. And then, confused, asked, “who’s tenshi?”

 

Tatsu opened the door and saw Cassandra laying on her bed, staring out her window.

 

“Barbara told me you two had an argument.”

 

“We did,” Cassandra confirmed dryly.

 

 “Want to tell me about it?”

 

“No.”

 

“Hmm,” Tatsu shrugged, “well, get changed. We’re going out to eat tonight. It was one of my favorite places to eat when I lived here before, and I think you’ll like it.”

 

&&&

 

_Inside a DEO safehouse just inside Gotham City limits_

 

Special DEO Agent Stephen Files glared at the four convicts, all but one wearing handcuffs that neutralized their extra-normal abilities and would explode with just the push of a button.

 

“Welcome boys and things, to the Suicide Squad. I know some of you have been here before, but I’m going to explain anyways just so we’re on the same page,” Agent Files handed each convict a manila folder, “you have been brought on to ensure this young woman’s capture.”

 

“You kidding me?” asked the first convict, a professional hitman, “a team like this to take down one little girl? Mask or not, blondie can’t wear more than a hundred pounds!”

 

“Are you complaining about your get out of jail free card?” Files asked, “because there are plenty more where you came from.”

 

“No sir. I’m just sayin’…”

 

“Well, don’t get your panties twisted. You’re are just back-up. This target is a high priority. If it helps, just think of her as bait, that’ll help us hook an even better catch,” the agent explained, “you freaks are just insurance for when I bring down the hammer.”

 

&&&    

 

_In a seedy Gotham Hotel_

 

Across town, Agent Files’ prey was the center of discussion of another group of individuals, a group that found themselves in constant conflict with law enforcement.

 

“Are you sure she’s even in Gotham?” asked the only male of the group, “I mean, with her abilities she could be anywhere!”

 

“Trust me,” answered their leader. She voice bubbled slightly, “I know where she would go in an emergency. It’s not as if she has a lot of friends she can rely on.”

 

“Are we sure we even want her back?” asked the second woman, her voice angry and hot.

 

“Of course we do,” purred the first woman with a mock smile, “she’s family. Why wouldn’t we help her?”

 

&&&

 

In Gotham City, the homeless drew even less attention than usual. They were considered a non-entity, not as threatening as the criminals and sociopaths who preyed on the city and if one lived in Gotham long enough, less fortunate was just one step away from ‘criminally insane’. The sympathy of the average Gothamite was reserved solely for themselves.

 

So as a result, no one noticed the college age girl slumped against an alley wall, watching the restaurant across the street with equal parts fear and excitement. Less than forty five minutes ago, she’d finally seen the woman she’d come to Gotham in search of.

 

But with the end so close, she wasn’t so certain now that the light she saw at the end of the tunnel wasn’t that of an oncoming train. Finding her had been her one goal and up until now, she hadn’t really thought through what she would do, what she would…what she could say.

 

So like a deer in headlights, she just stood across the street.

 

Meanwhile, inside, a spirited educational debate was taking place.

 

“Why can’t you teach me?” Cassandra demanded as she set aside her second plate of the evening.

 

“Because English is a very complicated language,” Tatsu explained calmly, “and there are many nuances to it. I can read and speak it fairly well yes, but that hardly means I’m qualified to teach it.”

 

“Why? It’s just…talking!” Cassandra knew the words came out wrong the instant she said them, but for the life of her, couldn’t think of another way to express her confusion.

 

“It’s no more talking than throwing a punch is just fighting,” Tatsu answered curtly, “anyone in this room can make a fist or hit a practice dummy. That does not mean they are as skilled as me, let alone yourself.”

 

“That’s different…”Cassandra mumbled.

 

“All languages are different and have their own rules,” Tatsu stated, “for instance, in Japan, it’s common to add a prefix onto someone’s name, depending on their relation with you. When speaking to Bruce or my old teammates, I might use san. In Japanese, your prefix would be chan or hime, while say the president of the country, his would be sama.”

 

“Why?”

 

Tatsu shrugged, “Many reasons, mostly related to culture and tradition. The English language has been influenced by generations of immigrants. To fully understand it, your best option would be a native speaker. And honestly, there are few smarter than Barbara. And if you could stop being so stubborn for a moment, you’d see that.”

 

“I’m not being stubborn,” Cassandra muttered under her breath.

 

“Yes you are. You’re letting your pride get in the way of your common sense. I know you want to be like Bruce, strong and self reliant, but he’s not perfect, nor did he acquire his skills without the help of excellent teachers.”

 

Cassandra moved uncomfortably in her seat.

 

“Oracle is a better hacker than Bruce, you are a better fighter, Nightwing is a better leader, Mr. Miracle is a better escape artist,” Tatsu took a sip of water, “do I need to continue?”

 

“…no.”

 

“I know you want to be like him, and that is an admirable goal. But everyone needs help,” Tatsu reached across the table and placed her hands atop her adoptive ward, “you are already excellent in one regard. But there are equally important areas in which you need to improve, and for that you will need teachers. Your upbringing put you at a disadvantage and while I do believe you can overcome it, you need assistance. No one can bear a burden like yours alone. But you have to let us help you if you expect to make any kind of progress.”

 

Cassandra let the words sink in slowly. In truth, Tatsu hadn’t said anything Cassandra didn’t already realize, but it was still a little demoralizing to hear it said aloud. Swallowing her pride was a bitter pill for the young crime fighter, because she had so little to be proud of. And lessons with Oracle seemed like a sure fire way to remind her of that every day.

 

As she thought that, Cassandra scanned the room. Her instincts detected nothing amiss and the restaurant was in a better part of Gotham, but Cassandra’s instincts ran like finely tuned watch, precision work done almost casually, effortlessly.

 

Cassandra saw the waiter inpatient for the customers to order, the husband and wife eating dinner together for what would likely prove to be the last time though neither knew it at the moment. Cassandra observed the two men in the corner, both deeply in love but unsure how to tell the other, she saw the retired police detective sitting at a table, waiting for a business associate.

 

And she saw a young, blond haired woman standing across the street, staring at her.

 

Cassandra almost did a double take. She stared hard, trying to confirm what she’d just seen.

 

It wasn’t easy. Though they were facing the window, the window that opened to the street had the name painted on, and Gotham foot traffic was always hectic, but Cassandra could confirm that she was being watched by a young, blond haired woman.

 

Memories of a dead friend flooded Cassandra’s mind, and her body literally shook as she fought against her first instinct to dash out the door. The distance was too great to make out the blonde’s face, but the age, height, body type…they were too familiar. Painfully familiar.     

 

“Cassandra, what is it?” Tatsu saw her ward’s rigid body language and knew from experience something was amiss.

 

“We’re being watched,” Cassandra answered quickly, “stay here.”

 

Cassandra stood up and walked towards the bathroom. As she passed an unoccupied table she swiped a steak knife without being observed. Most bathrooms in Gotham had security systems to prevent people from climbing out the windows, and she hadn’t brought the right tools with her.

 

&&&

 

Tatsu waited several tense minutes as the waiter brought the check. Tatsu left the money on the table along with a generous tip and anxiously made her way towards the car.

 

She opened the back seat, and glanced at the secret compartment in the floor that held Cassandra’s gear. It was nearly impossible tell it was there even when you knew what to look for and impossible to determine if Cassandra had actually taken her gear. Tatsu began to open the door, to see if Cassandra had indeed found it necessary to dawn her uniform, with a gust of wind shot out of nowhere and slammed the door shut.

 

Hurricane force winds slammed into the older heroine, plastering her against the car. Tatsu looked up, and to her horror saw that she recognized her assailant.

 

“Katana, you’re going to help me…!” Wendy Jones, or Windfall, a young member of Outsiders that Tatsu hadn’t seen in months. The young woman looked terrible, bags underneath her eyes, worry lines all across her hair while her hand was greasy and frayed, “or…or else you’ll regret it!”

 

Next issue: Windfall's in Gotham, and hell is on her heels!


	14. Chapter 14

**& &&**

**DC Infinity Presents**

**Batgirl # 13**

**Salvation Run**

**“The Hunted.”**

**Part 2**

**& &&**

_Gotham City_

 

When Tatsu Yamashiro took the time to reflect on her life, she always reflected on how a career in heroics that began to vengeance for her slain family led to the creation of an entirely new one. Unlike some of her younger contemporaries, she didn’t consider her teammates family. While Black Lightning, Geoforce, Metamorpho were all dear friends that she trusted with her life, they were not family in Tatsu’s heart.

 

But Gabrielle Doe, a young woman with no past Tatsu encountered when the Outsiders were formed, became a second daughter to her. By the time Tatsu got around to legally adopted her, they’d been family for years. And it was her time in the Outsiders that convinced Batman that Tatsu should be Cassandra’s guardian. Ironically, a path that began in blood, death and vengeance came full circle, returning Tatsu to where she always wanted to be, a relatively quiet with family.

 

And though few knew it, there was a third young woman that Tatsu was responsible for, but ultimately never that close to. Her name was Wendy Jones, and went by the codename Windfall. She first met Katana and the rest of the Outsiders as an enemy, part of the villain group known as the Masters of Disaster. However, it was obvious to everyone though, that Wendy wasn’t a villain at heart. In battle she lacked an aggressive edge, following the orders of her abusive sister and even spared Halo’s life. Her eventual defection to the Outsiders came as a surprise to no one, looking back.

 

Like Halo, Windfall was a lost young woman with no place to call home after rebelling against the older sister who forced her into villainy and for a time, she had come to live with Tatsu.

 

But unlike Halo, Wendy was too timid, too shy to reach out to Tatsu emotionally. In private, she did everything to remain out of sight and out of the way. A lifetime of being browbeaten by her homicidal sister left Wendy so grateful to anyone who thought kindly of her that she would ask or take nothing in return. The last time the two spoke, Tatsu had spent two hours over dinner gently convincing Wendy to accept a full college scholarship from Bruce Wayne.  The girl had it in her head that a multi-billionaire like Bruce Wayne shouldn’t be spending money on a girl like her, a thought that utterly baffled Tatsu.

 

So it went without saying that Tatsu was completely dumbstruck when Windfall came down from the sky, surrounded by gale force winds and actually threatening her like some maniac.

 

“Wendy, what on earth are you talking about?” Tatsu brought her arm up to shield her face from the roaring winds that Windfall was throwing around, “why are you here, what’s wrong?!”

 

“Don’t act like you don’t know!” Windfall grabbed Tatsu by the collar, and a burst of nearly solid air shot them both into the air like a catapult. Tatsu grabbed the young woman’s wrists, slightly concerned. She’d flown with Windfall before, and the girl was far smoother then compared to now.

 

The two former Outsiders came down rough on the gravel of a nearby building.

 

“Just what is the meaning of this!” Tatsu smacked Wendy’s hand away, and had to restrain herself from beating the girl within an inch of her life. Windfall looked ashamed fopr a moment, but that was soon replaced by a wild look of anger.

 

“Batman!” Windfall spat, “he’s been hounding me since…since…”

 

Windfall staggered backwards, and for a moment Tatsu was afraid the girl might well stumble off the roof. Windfall steadied herself, but not before the older woman saw just how tired, how exhausted the girl was both physically and mentally. There was deep lines under her blood shot eyes, Wendy’s normally curly hair was greasy and matted while her costume was ragged and torn in odd places. She looked more like a survivor from a disaster movie than a once heroine.

 

Seeing that, Tatsu set aside her not inconsiderable anger. Her instincts were telling her that something was gravely wrong here, something that made Windfall’s little kidnapping seem trivial in comparison.

 

“Wendy, that’s going on?” Tatsu asked gently, “I haven’t heard from you in nearly a year and when I do, you act like a blasted lunatic! I want an explanation, or so help me…!”

 

“I…” Wendy cast her eye downwards, looking past the rooftop, “I screwed up, oh God…Tatsu, I swear I didn’t mean to do…”

 

Tatsu heard the flap of a cape, but didn’t have a second to react before Batgirl landed in-between her and Windfall.

 

“Stand down,” Batgirl ordered, a flash grenade in her left hand, “and back away. Now.”

 

“Nonononono…no!”

 

Windfall shot into the air like a bullet, kicking up a cloud of dust that engulfed the rooftop in her wake.

 

“…damn it,” Tatsu coughed, and tried to wave the dust out of the air, “you should have let me talk to her, Cassandra! There was no need to…!”

 

“It was too dangerous,” Batgirl interrupted smoothly as she replaced the grenade, “she was too unstable…and the situation…was about to change.”

 

Before Tatsu could ask her ward to clarify, she heard the sound of screeching tires, and of orders being shouted.

 

“Government men,” Batgirl stated flatly, “they are after her…but tracking us too. Here too fast.”

 

“They were likely tracking my credit cards,” Tatsu replied, “damn it. I can explain my way out of this, but it will take time. While I do that, you have to find Windfall.”

 

“Here,” Batgirl reached into her utility belt and pulled out…lipstick?

 

“Transmitter,” Batgirl explained evenly, “government man…will explain his side. I…need to hear.”

 

“Understood. If they ask, I’ll say that Wendy flew off when I refused to help her. We shouldn’t be seen together, if it can be avoided,” Tatsu took the device and slipped it in her pocket and sighed “and I was hoping to have an un-eventual evening too.”

 

Tatsu made her way down from the roof, and the moment she stepped onto the street, men in suits spotted her almost instantly and waved her down.

 

“Mrs. Yamashiro, Mrs. Yamashiro, are you alright?” yelled the closest agent

 

 _They know who I am_ , Tatsu noted mentally. While it was suspicious, Tatsu also knew that it didn’t automatically imply foul play. “I’m fine, thank you. Could you tell what’s going on? Why did Wendy just come after me?”

 

“Of course. Please, follow us, ma’am. We’ll explain everything in a moment.”

 

‘We’ll explain everything in a moment’, Tatsu had long since learned, was unofficial code for _we have orders to bring you to our superior._

 

There were a good half dozen cars gathered around the front of the restaurant and at the center was a large van that Tatsu suspected their superior officer was stationed, directing this mob of government agents.

 

Sure enough, the two led her to the rear of the van, knocked twice, and left. A moment later, the van doors opened, and a tall, well-built blond haired man in an off the rack suit stepped out.

 

Though he was built like a brick house, Tatsu’s first impression of the man was unimpressed. His smile was too forced, he didn’t bother to hide his familiarity and she had seen that smug grin too many times before, usually on the faces of people who intended harm to someone.     

 

“Ms. Yamashiro, I’m sorry to we had to meet under these circumstances…”

 

“Mrs.,” Tatsu corrected.

 

“Mrs. Yamashiro, my apologies,” the man corrected himself, “My name is Anthony Kastle, I’m an agent with the Department of Extranormal Operations, or D.E.O for short.”

 

“Why have you been hounding Wendy?” Tatsu had no patience for small talk, and knew that these men arrived far too quickly for them to have been doing anything other than laying in wait.

 

“May I first ask your relationship with Wendy Jones, AKA Windfall?”

 

“As I’m certain you already know, I’m a volunteer foster parent for troubled extra normal youths,” Tatsu explained evenly, every word a lie. It was a cover carefully crafted by Batman years ago, “most people are afraid to take in youngsters associated in any way with meta-humans. I’m not one of them. Now, again, tell me why are you hounding Wendy?”

 

“When was the last time you spoke to Ms. Jones?” Kastle asked.

 

“It’s been at least a year since I spoke to Wendy,” Tatsu answered, “she’s not very good at reaching out or communicating, unfortunately.”

 

“Well, there was an incident at her college. According to the local police, she killed several members of a fraternity,” Kastle explained, “she’s been on the run ever since. We’ve received several tips regarding her location, but she’s managed to evade us. Her powers make her rather slippery.”

 

“Incident?” Tatsu felt a shiver shoot down her spine from the way Kastle glossed over it. It was too smooth, too practiced, “what ‘incident’ are you referring to?”

 

“She accused members of a Fraternity of sexual assault during a party. The local DA investigated and found that the accusations were completely baseless,” Kastle answered, barely concealing his contempt and disbelief, “so Wendy decided to take justice into her own hands. She used her powers to suffocate several members, and we’ve been chasing her ever since.”

 

Batgirl was watching the exchange from high above, and for a moment thought she might have to swoop down and save Agent Kastle from Tatsu. Her guardian was absolutely livid, and cold hard logic was all that held back battle tested instincts that ached for violence.

 

“If she accused someone of rape, then there is no doubt in my mind whatsoever that it happened,” Tatsu growled, “and if you think that she killed anyone, you should put that badge down right now, before you hurt anyone else.”

 

Agent Kastle gritted his teeth, “She’s a former villain…”

 

“…emphasize on former. And she reformed with all past charges dropped.”

 

“…and we have a half dozen bodies in the morgue that dispute the idea that she’s not a killer!” Kastle countered, “unless you have some special knowledge about her you would care to share?”

 

“I do, I know her but you don’t care about that now that you can no longer use it against her,” Tatsu waved her hand dismissively, “I cannot help you, Agent Kastle, nor would I if it was within my ability. I can only hope that this witch hunt you’re so intent on burns only you, and not Wendy.”

 

Tatsu spun on her heel, but Agent Kastle grabbed her shoulder before she could leave.

 

“Now see here, if you think I’m going to let you wander off and help her, you got another…aiie!”

 

Agent Kastle didn’t see it happen, but he definitely felt it when Tatsu grabbed his hand, ducked underneath his elbow and twisted, hard.

 

The half dozen agents watching pulled out their fire-arms and leveled them at Tatsu, but she didn’t so much as acknowledge them with a glance.

 

“I know that you’ve been passively following me, Agent Kastle. My house is already being watched and you are following my credit card. So I clearly cannot render any aid,” Tatsu released the DEO agent, “I also know that as long as I am not conspiring with a meta-human, DEO has no jurisdiction to arrest me. So save us some time and take your humiliation like a man.”

 

Agent Kastle bared his teeth in a snarl as he rubbed his sore wrist, “With a word, I could get you thrown in jail for assaulting a federal officer!”

 

“Please do,” Tatsu taunted, a genuine smile on her face, “I’m close with Bruce Wayne. With one phone call, I can have his entire empire backing me, and they would take you apart by the end of the week.”

 

Kastle holstered his gun, “I don’t have time for you, so get out of here while I’m still feeling merciful. I’ve got a bitch hunt to finish, and so help me, if you get in my way I won’t hesitate to put a bullet in your skull.”

 

“And if I see you again, it will be very unpleasant for you,” Tatsu warned.

 

&&&

 

Tatsu flipped open her cell phone and dialing a special number only seconds after she pulled out of the restaurant parking lot.

 

“We’re here,” Oracle answered, “Batgirl called me in before you started talking to that DEO scum bag.”

 

“Then can you tell me what really happened to Wendy?” asked Tatsu.

 

“Not much,” Oracle answered, “I’m just starting to search the local papers and the local DA is slow on getting their records on computer. All can do know for certain is that Wendy was expelling for ‘behavior unbecoming of a student’ shortly after she filed her complaint.”

 

Tatsu gripped the steering wheel so hard her knuckles were turning white.

 

“There’s something else odd,” Oracle continued, “according to their case file, the police and DEO received a total of six tips about Wendy’s location.”

 

“Someone was running her down,” Batgirl stated. She was across town, swinging across Gotham, “could they be…using her as bait?”

 

“Unlikely,” Oracle answered, “Tatsu’s identity is above the agent in charge’s security clearance. I’m looking at the case file now, and reading between the lines, I can see that he’s called in a few markers. But what I can’t tell is why.”

 

Batgirl and Oracle could almost hear Tatsu’s teeth grinding.

 

“Oracle, I need the closest safe-house. I assume that there is equipment there for me?”

 

“There is.”

 

“After that, I’m going to need access to the JLA teleporter systems,” Tatsu said, “I’m going to investigate what happened personally. Cassandra, I need you to find Wendy and keep her out of Kastle’s hands. Guilty or not, under no condition can we allow that man to get his hands on her. I don’t trust him. Understood?”

 

“Understood,” Batgirl replied, “Oracle, they were passively…observing us. House…end of the block. Only place for them to be at. Have Nightwing…compromise them. And have him be ready.”

 

“Will do. Be careful out there, Cass.”

 

“Am always.”

 

Batgirl terminated the signal, and took a moment to reflect on what had just happened. Cassandra knew from the beginning that Batman held Tatsu in high regard and though Cassandra felt…strongly about her, she wondered how Batman had come to the same conclusion. 

 

But now, steeling and hearing the steel in her voice, Batgirl knew why. Wendy meant a little something to Tatsu, and Cassandra knew without question that she meant more. That someone cared so passionately about her well-being in such a unique fashion, made Cassandra feel warm in an unfamiliar fashion.  

 

Batgirl then brushed the sentimentality aside. There was a job to do, prey to find and other hunters already in the field.

 

Batgirl stood in the exact location that Windfall took off from and looked long and hard at the direction she’d taken. From what she had observed, in Batgirl’s opinion Windfall was exhausted both physically and emotionally.  She’d need a place to rest, undisturbed, and soon. The Daughter of Cain estimated that Windfall had a range of only a mile, a mile and a half at most in her condition.

 

And if there was one thing this city didn’t lack, it was rabbit holes for those evading the police.

 

Luckily in Gotham, Batgirl defined apex predator.

 

&&&

 

_Forty Five minutes later._

 

Wendy Jones felt a weight on the aged, dirty mattress she’d fallen asleep on, and the moment the implications struck her brain, she shot up like a bullet.

 

Batgirl was ready for her though, and smoothly slipped a thin, metal wire around Windfall’s neck. By the time Windfall realized that Batgirl had been standing at the head of the bed, it was already too late.

 

“I don’t intend to let go,” Batgirl said flatly. She pulled the wire taut for a second to emphasize the threat, “so no powers…understand?”

 

“…yes,” Wendy swallowed hard, “how…did you find me?”

 

“No one breaks into a place…this poor…this high up,” explained Batgirl. Wendy glanced at the glass of the window she’s scattered and kicked herself mentally.

 

“You…you work with Batman, right?” Wendy knew the answer

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then tell me why is he hounding me like this?!” Derbris, dust and scattered trash as Wendy felt a rage that had been coursing through her for weeks slip free, “I’ve seen him, seen him hiding across the street, behind some damn corner, always after me! He’s tipped the police off to me at least six times already!”

 

Batgirl gave Wendy a curious look, “Did you actually see him?”

 

“What, no of course not! I mean, not directly,” Wendy rubbed her sore eyes, wiping away tears, “but I saw him, in the shadows like always! No one can forget those damn ears!”

 

“That’s not Batman’s way,” Batgirl countered, “yes, he scares people. But…he’s never cruel.”

 

“I know what I saw!”

 

“And I know him. Personally. If he wanted you in prison…you’d be there already.” Batgirl explained simply, “why would he stalk you? Why…let you see? Think…what does he gain?”

 

“I…” Windfall couldn’t believe that never occurred to her. Compared to other Outsiders, Windfall’s contact with the Dark Knight had been short, but that brief association was more than enough to teach her who was superior. And if he wasn’t scared to face her in battle, what other reason could he have for shadowing her?

 

“Now we talk…” Batgirl released of the wire and gently removed it from Windfall’s neck. She then sat down on the edge of the bed, and invited Wendy to do the same, “I want to…hear what happened. From you.”  

 

“I…I was stupid,” Wendy swallowed hard, “a bunch of guy, bunch of pricks who never even looked my way before they learned that I used to be a hero, they invited me to a party. I went…one of them handed me a drink…and…”

 

Windfall choked for a moment. The vague, hazy memories of that night were like a railroad spike in her heart.

 

“I…began to feel tired…one guy, he offered…he offered me a place to lie down, and…”

 

Batgirl placed her hand on Windfall’s shoulder and squeezed gently.

 

“…when I woke up the next day, they…they said that they took photos and would post them, if I went to the cops,” Windfall swallowed, her throat dry as a bone, “they even took my clothes…had to…had to fly home naked. Never been so humiliated…!”

 

Windfall put her hands in her face, and her entire body shook, “I …I went to the cops anyways. They…they barely gave me the time of day. One of those bastards that raped me was the DA’s son! They said I was lying! And by the time I got back to my dorm, they’d expelled me! That same day!  For ‘past association with criminals’, but they knew that when I was admitted! They knew, I know they did!”

 

“Windfall…I need to ask…”

 

“Did I kill them?” Wendy looked at Batgirl through tear stained eyes, “I did. I went to the fraternity house, I was so angry…the way they laughed at me, and I must have sucked the air out, or poisoned it or something! I was just so mad, I didn’t know what I was doing!”

 

“You’re wrong,” Batgirl said sternly.

 

“…what?” Windfall wiped away a faceful of tears.

 

“You didn’t kill them,” Batgirl said with finality, as if she were talking about the color of the sky, “you can’t see it…but I can.”

 

“How can you be so…”

 

The sound of rotor blades drowned out Wendy’s sentence, and the whole room began to shake.

 

“Don’t move,” Batgirl ordered, simply as a precaution. She had grown accustomed to the nightly fly-overs of the Gotham PD, and thought little of the helicopters. Even this close, they didn’t register in her mind as a threat. As far as Batgirl knew, the DEO was searching for Windfall by foot or car, not air.

 

“They’re coming for me, aren’t they?!” Wendy dashed to the window and yanked the curtain aside, terrified of what she might find but unable to live with the uncertainly. She hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in weeks, and it played havoc with her mind.

 

Unfortunately, Windfall’s paranoia was well founded. She looked out the window to see a helicopter hovering there, and a Special Forces sniper armed with a modified Heckler PSG1 aimed directly at her. Wendy barely made it two steps back before the man pulled the trigger.

 

Batgirl dove for Windfall the moment she saw the helicopter, but not even she was faster than a rifle. Glass shattered seconds before Batgirl tackled Wendy to the ground.

 

“My chest…”Wendy gasped. Batgirl looked, and saw three long darts embedded in Windfall’s chest. She quickly plucked them out, but suspected she was already too late, “it feels like acid, get it out, get it out!”

 

Outside, DEO sniper Peter Cullen set down his rifle and grabbed the radio, “Payload delivered. You may now insert for retrieval.”

 

Cullen watched as the DEO commandos repelled down from the roof of the old tenement to the window that he’d shot out. He vaguely wondered why this C-lister had brought so much trouble down upon herself, but ultimately didn’t care. He saw several trained commandos burst through the windows, and knew the operation would be over in minutes, the definition of an smooth mission.

 

Because his helicopter pulled away and was heading towards a nearby army base, Peter never saw that the ropes used by the Special Forces never went slack, as if the commandos were never able to disengage them. He was never in a position to learn that their radios went dead within seconds of insertion.

 

It would be days later, when visiting several friends in the hospital, that Peter would learn just how very wrong he had been.

 

&&&

 

_Elsewhere_

 

Katana, like most people, never cared for morgues. They were cold, sterile places that held only pain and loss. Any attempts to avoid that fact were tasteless, as were any attempts to hide it. To her, they were nothing more than necessary blights.

 

Dressed in her full yellow and red costume that she hadn’t donned in more than a year and with her trademark weapon strapped to her back (a very deadly replicate of her old sword, the Soultaker), Katana pushed through the double doors of the morgue as if she had every right to be there. She had the skill for stealth, but at the moment she just didn’t have the stomach. Tatsu wanted information and she wanted it now.

 

The attendants and Medical Examiner turned to look at her, and then took a step back.

 

“I’m here as part of a Justice League investigation,” Tatsu said smoothly. It was only a half lie, as she was here acting as an agent of Oracle who in turn was once a member of the Justice League, “I need to see your files regarding the Windfall case, please. Now.”

 

“Uhh…I…one sec, please,” stammered an attendant.

 

Tatsu waited patiently, and drummed her fingers on the camera Oracle had her take. It was specially designed to upload directly into Oracle’s computers, and she would in turn send it to the Justice Society’s Brownstone, where Dr. Midnite was waiting.

 

Katana just hoped that they could remedy this situation before things got too far out of hand.

 

&&&

 

“I…can’t breathe!” Wendy rasped.

 

Batgirl placed a pillow under Wendy’s head, and examined the dart. The design was fairly basic, but the metal was cold to the touch, smelled of tin foil and there wasn’t a drop of liquid to be seen.

 

“Oracle, I have a situation,” Batgirl radioed, “Windfall has been…struck with a dart. Metallic scent, silver liquid. Purpose unknown.”

 

“It’s a nanite power inhibitor,” Oracle replied, “according to what I’ve researched, it’ll shut down most of Windfall’s voluntary motor functions when she uses her powers. They’re still experimental and completely illegal, damn it! What the hell does the DEO think they’re doing?”

 

“Gaining pawn,” Batgirl answered, “something bigger is happening here. Don’t know what. Keep me informed.”

 

“Will do. Watch yourself Cass, this is looking like it’s going to get nasty.”

 

“We have to move, now,” Batgirl said to Wendy, “you can’t use…your powers. Too dangerous.”

 

“No problem, I can barely walk,” Wendy moaned.

 

“I can help,” Batgirl pulled Wendy to her feet and draped her arm over her elbow, “don’t need to go far. Just need a better position…to defend from. Wait until you can move…then leave.”

 

Wendy glanced at the windows that were clogged with unconscious commandos.

 

“Yeah, I see your point.”

 

&&&

 

DEO Agent Kastle’s feet hit pavement the second his car came to a stop, and when he saw his hand-picked DEO agents loitering, talking amongst themselves. In his anger, Kastle easily mixed the looks of fear and concern on their faces.

 

“Why the hell are you guys standing around with your thumbs up your asses?” Kastle demanded, “why isn’t the bitch secured yet?”

 

“The strike-team we sent in haven’t reported in,” answered David Andrew, Kastle’s second in command, “plus, there’s a wrinkle.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Windfall’s old friends have become involved.”

 

&&&

 

Batgirl and Windfall stepped out into the hall, glanced down the hall and froze.

 

Standing not ten feet away were three costumed individuals. Two females, one male. One woman was sheathed in flames, while the male was dressed in a dark blue costume stylized with icicles. The second woman was devoid of a costume, made entirely of water in a shape that resembled human proportions.

 

The woman of water lacked every possible tell that enabled Batgirl to read body language, yet everything told the Daughter of Cain that this woman was a cold killer.

 

“Oh hello, Batgirl. I’m New Wave,” said the woman of water, “and these are my teammates, the Masters of Disaster. We’re having a little family reunion and I’m so sorry, but you’re not on the list. But get in my way, and you’ll be on the menu.”     

 

Next Issue: It’s Batgirl vs. the Masters of Disaster for the sake of Windfall, but which side will Wendy choose?

 


	15. Chapter 15

**& &&**

**DC Infinity Presents**

**Batgirl # 14**

**Salvation Run**

**“Family Trauma.”**

**Part 3**

**& &&**

_Gotham City_

 

Batgirl tensed. Much like her mentor, superhumans, be they heroes or villains, made her anxious. They were harder to intimidate, more easily moved to violence and on average a hundred times more destructive than a normal human being of the same disposition. In her darker moods, Batgirl just thought of them as sources of destruction just looking for an excuse to cut loose.

And as luck would have it, Batgirl now found herself facing a team of them, who with a sense of irony called themselves the Masters of Disaster.

Batgirl didn’t have to be told that they were here for Windfall, herself a fugitive from the law. Just like she didn’t have to be told that they weren’t leaving without a fight.

“Step aside Batgirl,” New Wave ordered, “Wendy is coming with us.”

“Not happening,” growled the Daughter of Destruction.

Batgirl removed two bataranges from her belt, but before she could attack, a high pressure stream of water shot out of New Wave’s mid-section and slammed into the young crimefighter, pitching her down the hall. Batgirl, her body wracked with pain, reached into her belt and withdrew a smoke grenade.

“Typical Bat,” New Wave sighed when she saw Batgirl disappear in a cloud of smoke, “if they can’t find some shadows to be mysterious in, they make them. Heatstroke, Cold Snap, deal with her!”

“Got it,” replied the two lovers.

New Wave watched her teammates take off after Batgirl, and then turned her attention to her sister, who was pressed up against the wall in terror. Wendy Jones knew better than anyone the type of person New Wave was. When they were younger, Wendy watched her sister kill their mother barely days after their powers developed, in outrage for allowing a doctor to experiment her. Whether or not their mother allowed herself to be used as an experiment, neither Wendy nor New Wave knew, but it didn’t matter much to the older sister. Her life was permanently changed, and someone had to suffer.

And now, Wendy found herself helplessly before the sibling who’d so ruthlessly slain their mother, alone. Wendy couldn’t imagine a time she felt more vulnerable, which said a lot given the tailspin that was once her life.

“Relax, Wendy,” New Wave said calmly, “I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Then why are you here?” Wendy’s eyes darted to Cold Snap and Heatsroke as the two casually strolled by to deal with Batgirl. Windfall didn’t know if Batgirl could handle the pair, and felt like a coward for just standing there, offering the villains no resistance.

Not for the first time, Wendy felt her life spiraling out of her control and into the hands of others. When would it end?

“I’m here because I’m family,” New Wave replied, “I made it a point to keep tabs on you, I heard what happened. And I want to help.”

“You…you did?” Wendy looked at her sister in shock. Despite herself, Wendy found she couldn’t believe how much her older sister’s sympathy and love meant to her just now. But then she remembered why she left her sister and her friends behind…          

“No…no, I’m not like that anymore…” Wendy said weakly, “I’m not a criminal…”

“There are a few corpses that disagree with you,” New Wave replied simply, “do you really think that your hero friends will let you forget that?”

&&&

Coldsnap and Heatstroke moved down the hall slowly, carefully. The floor was almost completely deserted by now, all the occupants having fled when they heard the police chopper open fire, or saw the Masters of Disaster disembark from the elevator.

“We shouldn’t even be here,” Coldsnap growled, “fighting Bats has never gone well for us, and I’m not so sure I want Wendy back. She sold us out to those damn Outsiders! And New Wave killed Shakedown, remember?”

“We don’t have much of a choice, honey,” Heatstroke replied. She was wrapped in a sheath of flame, and it took all her concentration just to ensure that the rug was all she burned, “remember when we struck out on our own? We were stuck merged together by some drunk scientist who was supposed to cure us!”

“I know, but…”

“But nothing,” Heatstroke snapped, “without the Masters of Disaster, we’re just two B-listers who can get short changed by anyone who would hire us, and two victims by any scientist who could cure us! We don’t have a choice!”

“Wrong,” the two turned their heads, and saw Batgirl at the end of the hall. She was standing in front of the floor’s fire equipment, with a limp hose in one hand, “there is always…a choice. Surrender, and I promise you…will get help.”

“We’ve heard it all before,” Coldsnap spat, “only way we’re going to get help is if we help ourselves.”

“Don’t think that fire-hose will help you,” Heatstroke warned, “New Wave disabled the building sprinklers and fire alarms before we entered. How do you think I got in without setting off every smoke alarm? And if you fire that hose, handsome here will have twice the moisture he needs to freeze you inside out!””

The pair stalked forward.

“Last chance,” warned Batgirl.

“I’m not scared of a useless fire-hose,” Heatstroke smirked.

“You should be,” Batgirl threw the fire-hose like a baseball bat, and it smacked Heatstroke upside the head with a loud –whak!-. She crumbled like a puppet with its strings cut.

“You little bitch!” Coldsnap lashed out with a beam of absolute zero.

Batgirl casually bent to the side, and his team struck the pipe for the fire-hose.

“Aww crap.”        

Batgirl smashed the now brittle metal pipe with the back of her hand. It shattered like glass, and water spew out carpeting the floor.

“This is a fine mess, but not a problem for someone like me,” Coldsnap explained.

Batgirl said nothing for a moment, but began to stroll forward.

“Okay, you asked for it.”

Coldsnap let loose a blast of pure cold, and Batgirl ducked it easily. In one fluid motion, she reached down, cupped some water in her hands and then splashed it on Coldsnap’s face.

“Arrrhh!” Coldsnap screamed as water splashed his face, and instantly froze, blinding him and searing his eyes painfully as the ice mixed with the fluid in his eyes.

Batgirl’s fist connected with Coldsnap’s jaw perfectly, but the man was a veteran of metahuman combat. Blinded and in pain, he still had the presence of mind to throw himself backwards, and aimed his hand at the one target he couldn’t possibly miss. The ground.

A wall of thick, solid ice shot up between Coldsnap and Batgirl, who barely flipped backwards in time to avoid it.

Batgirl glared at the wall, as if the annoyance she felt for it alone could melt it. She briefly considered using explosives to get through, but deemed it too risky. She wasn’t fond of the idea of ice chunks flying everywhere, and knew that Coldsnap could repair the wall easily if she used too little.

Batgirl pondered for a moment. There were four empty apartments behind her, it’d be easy to circumvent the ice wall by going out the window, but she’d still have to deal with these two sooner or later.

Better to stay and prepare an ambush, Batgirl thought. The two would think her cornered, and she could use that to her advantage, make them play into her hands while pretending to be in theirs.

&&&

“What we used to do, I hated that!” Wendy said defiantly, “I won’t go back to hiding in some hole in the ground!”

“Do you really think you have a choice?” New Wave asked, “if you don’t come with me, your so called friends? They’ll toss you in a hole themselves without a second thought. Did they offer you help bringing your attackers to justice? Or did they hunt you down like an animal?”

“I…”, Wendy hugged herself, and felt as stupid as she did when she remembered asking someone to hold her drink and weakly confessed, “I didn’t ask. I should have, but I was so ashamed…”

“They have their code, and now you’re not part of it,” New Wave sneered, “there are only good guys and bad guys in this world. You’re with them, or with us. All you need to do, sweetie, is make it official.”

&&&

Oracle drummed her fingers impatiently. At the moment, she had several irons in the fire. Two involving members of the Outsiders, one involving her husband and one involving one of the finest Doctors in the world, to whom she’d just emailed a report. But while multi-tasking came easy to Barbara Grayson, waiting did not.

So she was a little surprised when Dr. Midnite called her back almost immediately.

“Oracle, I took a look at the autopsy reports, I know who killed those boys,” Dr. Mid-Nite said quickly.

“Already? You’re a quick reader, Doctor.”

“That’s because I’ve seen something exactly like this once before,” answered the Legacy hero.

Oracle listened intently, as Dr. Mid-Nite explained his conclusion, how he came to it and how the first doctors missed it.

“Wow…” Oracle said in disbelief. As a crime-fighter in Gotham, she had encountered her fair share of sick cases, but this one seemed as if it were in a class by itself, “are you sure about this?”

“I’d stake my medical career on it.”

“I’m convinced. Thanks, Doc,” Oracle signed off, then activated her radio for Batgirl.

“Batgirl, come in. This is Oracle, I’ve got some information you need.”

No reply.

Oracle did a quick equipment check, and saw that all beacons were functioning perfectly. Which likely meant that Batgirl was running in radio silence, and that meant close combat with someone powerful, likely meta-human.

“You better be careful,” Barbara said under her breath.

Suddenly, a light-bulb went off in Oracle’s head. Someone was keeping tabs on Wendy as she ran to Gotham, constantly tipping off the police and DEO, constantly putting her behind the eight ball and on edge and Oracle suspected she knew who, after her discussion with Mid-Nite.

It took less than ten minutes of hacking to confirm her suspicions.

“Damn, she really did…” Oracle leaned back in her chair, dumbstruck by what she’d learned. After living and fighting in Gotham, she’d built up a tolerance to the insane actions of villains, but she learned early on that some things could always slip past that wall. And this was certainly one of them.

&&&

 

Heatstroke projected a tiny fraction of her heat outwards, melting the wall of ice her husband had created to separate them from Batgirl.

“When I get done with that little witch, there won’t even be ashes of her!” Heatstroke rubbed her throbbing head.

“I’ll try to save a piece for you if I get her first, but no promises,” Coldsnap said, “if she’s anything like the first Bat, she’s dangerous.”

“She’s nothing like him,” Heatstroke growled. She looked around. Four doors, all closed and likely locked, “I’ll bet she even rabbitted.”

“Well, lets make sure. New Wave doesn’t like loose ends, and I don’t like being sloppy.”

“I’ll get the right two, you get the left,” Heatstroke proposed.

Heatstroke didn’t even bother trying to open the door with her hands. Since she’d first gained her almost uncontrollable powers, she’d grown accustomed to not doing anything like a normal person, even opening a door. She lashed out casually with her powers, burning the thing to cinders but careful not to start a larger fire.

She floated inside, eyes checking the shadows. She did her best not to take in the couch, TV or anything else that was the staple of a normal life, which was hard given that they were scattered all around the apartment. They were all painful reminders of the life she wanted to live with Coldsnap, with Darryl, but because of these damned powers of hers she couldn’t even feel his touch. For a moment, Heatstroke wished she were more like New Wave, able to lose herself in mindless violence and just torch the room as an exercise in therapy.

But Heatstroke swore long ago never to become like that woman, and wasn’t about to start now.

She moved into the bed rooms, checking each one and eying any possible hiding spots in each room. As the meta-human examined the rooms, she expected Batgirl to jump out whenever she approached a closet, or dark corner. She searched each room, her body tense and ready for action. She took a spare second to relax when she was done, and then pushed forward.

She had just finished the final bedroom of the two apartments she agreed to search when Batgirl attacked.

The Daughter of Shiva threw a length of the fire-hose over Heatstroke’s head, and spun her around and flung her down the hall with all her strength. Heatstroke stumbled, unable to get her bearings and slammed face first into the tile wall of the bathroom.

Heatstroke saw Batgirl swing something, and the next thing the fiery villainess knew she was crash landing in the shower.

Batgirl was inside the small bathroom in seconds. She spun the shower knob, and a torrent of cold water blasted down from the shower nossel and damped Heatstroke’s ever present flames. Almost instantly steam engulfed the room, making it impossible for the villainess to see her foe.

“That won’t…” Batgirl smacked Heatstroke in the gut with something hard and long, and then elbowed her in the face, knocking her out.   

 “Burn?” Batgirl offered. According to Nightwing, snappy comments could actually help crime fighting when used right, so Batgirl thought she might practice it every now and then. But only when her foes were unconscious and no one was around.

Batgirl plugged bath tub, and left Heatstroke in the shower with the water running. It wasn’t the best method of restraint, but Batgirl was improvising. She was just glad that the handle she’d cut off the fire-axe was as fire resistant as she had hoped.

&&&

“Honey? Are you okay? I thought I heard something,” Coldsnap entered the apartment where his lover lay unconscious in the bathroom, and immediately noticed the steam. He looked around the apartment nervously, “baby, can you hear me?”

“I can.”

Coldsnap spun around to see Batgirl standing less than five feet away with a glass of water in one hand. The subzero villain brought his hands up to blast her, but Batgirl swung the glass at him, and remembering what’d happened last time, Coldsnap hesitated and used every last ounce of willpower to suppress the temperature dampener field that surrounded his body constantly.

And when he accomplished that, Batgirl punched him in the face, kneed him in the gut and then slammed her elbow into the side of his face. He was unconscious before he felt the water on his face.

Batgirl stepped past her enemy, and reactivated her communications equipment.

“Oracle, come in.”

“Batgirl, oh thank God!” the computer Goddess sighed in relief, “I was beginning to worry. What’s your situation?”

“I taken down two meta-humans,” Batgirl stated, “Heatstrike and Coldsnap.”

“Heatstroke,” Oracle corrected, “where’s New Wave?”

“Don’t know. With…Wendy, I assume.”

“You need to approach her carefully,” Oracle warned, “and there’s something you need to know…”

&&&

“They won’t help you,” New Wave continued, “you saw how they treated Wonder Woman. All so called heroes have the same line in the sand, and you crossed it.”

“They…they’re my friends,” Wendy said softly, half believing.

“Once you’ve killed, you can never go back!” New Wave growled, “you can never be a hero after that!”

“Wrong.”

A batarang soared through the air and struck New Wave in the center of her chest, and instantly began to crackle with electricity. New Wave, made entirely of water, screamed as it tore through her very core.

Unfortunately, the batarang’s charge was limited, not nearly enough to cripple New Wave. She slithered away as a puddle of water and assumed human form, albeit in the loosest sense possible several yards away.

“There’s something you need to know,” Windfall blinked, and suddenly Batgirl was standing between her and New Wave, “those boys…who died. They drowned, not suffocated.”

Windfall looked at Batgirl as if she’d just said the earth was flat.

“There’s more,” Batgirl reached into her belt and removed a special digital recorder.

“Don’t listen to her!” New Wave lashed out with a high pressure blast of water, strong enough to chip stone and pierce flesh like a knife, but Batgirl dodged it easily, and pressed play on the digital recorder.

Like a great deal of Batgirl’s equipment, this recorder was a far cry from those sold in regular electronic stores. For one thing, it had internet access and download abilities that would make the Iphone green with envy. Perfect for when someone needed to download important information.

“Hello, 911. What’s your emergency?”

The recorder was loud enough for everyone to hear. Batgirl almost enjoyed the sunken expression on New Wave’s face as the villainess realized her plan was coming undone.

“I’d like to report a fugitive,” Wendy’s eyes widen when she heard that voice, “I think she’s a supervillain called Windfall, and she’s at…”

“You called them,” Windfall could barely believe the words that passed her lips. Even if being made entirely of sentient water didn’t make one’s voice unmistakable, Wendy knew her sister’s voice as well as she knew her own. Windfall summoned her powers without even realizing it, her rage over the betrayal and suffering she’d endured flew past her breaking point, “you were following me the whole time, weren’t you? I didn’t see Batman lurking in the shadows, I saw you pretending to be him!”

“Wendy, I can explain…!” New Wave said carefully.

“You bitch!” Windfall’s rage returned full control of her powers, and then some, to her in full force, “how could you do this to me?!”

“It was for your own good!” New Wave answered defiantly, “we’re family, we should be together!”

“Windfall, don’t!” Batgirl shouted, but she went ignored or unheard. Terrible winds began to fly through the air, and Batgirl felt herself being pushed backwards, away from Windfall. She swiftly removed two razor sharp batarangs from her belt and with a burst of strength, swung them towards the floor, where they sank in deep. Batgirl hunkered down and held on tight, the only thing she could do to survive.

“Family?!” Wendy’s hurricane force winds tore her tears from her eyes, “family doesn’t take the most painful day of my life and make it worse! Family is there for one another! Family isn’t supposed to take your pain and make it even worse!”

A small tornado wrapped itself around New Wave, and the water villain struggled to keep herself in one piece.

“You’re my sister, but you have never been my family!”

Wendy used her powers to throw New Wave out of the building with such force, New Wave’s body broke the sound barrier.

&&&

Agent Kastle of the DEO heard the sonic boom, and looked up expectantly.

“Does anyone have eyes on her? Anyone?”

When his agents reported negative, DEO agent Kastle smiled. Windfall hadn’t run, which meant that she was still inside and since she’d just used her powers, was now helpless. His for the taking. He might not even need his reinforcements.

“Alright people, lets move in and get our prize!”

&&&

At first, Wendy barely felt anything past her thundering heart and heaving sobs. Sheer disbelief mingled with terrible outage left her mind racing to catch up with her body.

But it only took seconds for her mind, and body, to feel the effects of the DEO power dampening nanites. Wendy felt a dozen muscle spasms, as if she’d pulled every muscle in her leg, chest and arms at once, and slumped to the ground as if she’d fallen asleep.

Wendy, her body aching with pain, tried to command her body to stand, to move, to even flinch but it defied her. She lay on the ground, wracked in pain and unable to move, and knew that she was still in terrible danger.

Unbidden, her mind drifted back to that terrible night in the Fraternity House. Weak, vulnerable and helpless, she was abused until they no longer had a purpose for her. She never felt more helpless in her life, and here she was in the exact same situation. Alone and helpless, all because of her own inability to ask for help, and even now she was unable to even defend herself.

“Not alone,” Wendy turned her head when she felt Batgirl squeeze her hand.

“Just leave,” Wendy sobbed, “I…I did this. This is my screw-up, I can’t drag you down too, just…”

“No.”

“But…but you said I’m innocent,” Wendy stammered, “a night in jail, or two. That’s not so bad…”

Batgirl’s thoughts went back to Agent Kastle, and all the events up until now. There was more going on with him than just hunting a rogue meta-human. He wanted Wendy for something, Batgirl was convinced. It was only a gut instinct, but she hadn’t made it this far in life without trusting her gut.

“Not happening.”

“But I can’t run, I can barely even move!”

 Batgirl smiled beneath her mask, “But I can…very, very well.”

On the ground floor beneath the two heroines, dozens of DEO agents poured into the building.

Outside, Agent Kastle smiled as he saw his plan coming together. He glanced as a special armored paddy-wagon at the end of the street. If things continued to go this well, he mused, he wouldn’t even need his trump card.

Next Issue: It’s Batgirl vs. dozens of DEO agents for Windfall’s future! But can even Batgirl beat hordes of trained agents? And just what is Kastle’s trump card?      


 

Aftertword:

Glad this issue’s out of the way, so that I can explain why I did this arc.

It actually started in DC’s latest Suicide Squad mini-series. In it, it was revealed that Windfall was raped in a college party, and killed the entire Fraternity when the cops refused to do anything. The scene where it was discussed was underwhelming, and several issues later Wendy was pointlessly killed. A better example of fridging I cannot imagine.

It annoyed me for several reasons.

First and foremost, Wendy isn’t a killer. As a matter of fact, that was one of the reasons why she defected from her first team

Second, I simply cannot believe that her teammates in the Outsiders would abandon her like that. While we refer to characters as B or C list, they refer to each other by name. Friendship isn’t determined by popularity

Finally, if you’re going to off a long standing character like Wendy, you need to put some effort forth. That simply was not done.

So the current storyline is my therapy for such a horrible plot and how, IMO, it should have been done.      

  

 

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

**& &&**

**DC Infinity Presents**

**Batgirl # 15**

**Salvation Run**

**“The Long Road Home.”**

**Conclusion**

**& &&**

_Gotham City_

A half dozen specially trained DEO agents sprinted across the lobby of the run down tenement as the other members of their taskforce concentrated on ushering out the remaining and surprisingly stubborn tenants.

Only in Gotham would you find someone indifferent to the fact that there had been hurricane force winds on the top floor less than ten minutes ago.

The elevator pinged, and six highly decorated Department of Extra-normal Operations stepped in and formed a line.

“Okay people,” Agent Pratt began, “our target is known as Windfall. White, with blond curly hair. We are to secure her and then hustle out before any trouble. We think she took out her old teammates, the Masters of Disaster.”

“And if she didn’t?” asked one agent.

“Then we will,” answered Agent Pratt, “we’ve all dealt with meta-humans before. Hit them hard and fast and put them down before they know we’re there.”

“Good plan,” observed an unknown voice.

The agents glanced upwards, and saw Batgirl straddling the elevator ceiling, arms and legs straight as a nail.

Before they could fully absorb that fact, Batgirl fell and within a moment, so did darkness.

The elevator dinged top floor, and Batgirl calmly stepped out with what she sought. Almost as an afterthought, she pushed the button for the first floor as a courtesy for the DEO agents who’d loaned her their equipment.

&&&

Windfall felt a weight in her gut as she saw Batgirl return. She knew that the DEO was ready to come down on her like the fist of God, and for the life of her, couldn’t understand why Batgirl just wouldn’t allow her to surrender.

“You need to trust me,” Batgirl said, as if she’d read Windfall’s mind.

“You can’t handle an army of DEO agents!” Wendy pleaded.

“Handled worse” Batgirl replied with an indifferent shrug. Wendy, caught flat footed by Batgirl’s answer, couldn’t think of an answer before Batgirl shoved the tracker she’d taken from the DEO agents along with a small tool kit and radio from her utility belt.

“What are these for?”

“Use the radio,” Batgirl picked up Wendy underneath her arms and dragged her into a nearby apartment, “Oracle will tell you what to do.”

“What are you going to do?”

Batgirl set Wendy down carefully, “It’s dangerous to move you…too far. Need time. I will make sure…we get it.”

“You’re insane!” Wendy shouted, but Batgirl had already stepped out and locked the door.

&&&

Martin Pride, along with forty odd other DEO agents, finally got the signal they were waiting for, indicating that the floor had been sealed off by his fellow DEO agents. Using hand-signs, he signaled for his team to follow him up the stairs, weapons drawn.

They moved in pairs of two, sweeping the hall. They moved with a quickened pace, but tried not to hurry. Each and every one of them knew from personal history how important, and dangerous, small details could be with superhumans. Sometimes, something as subtle as a unblemished corpse amid a slaughter meant that there was a meta-human lying in wait, ready to escape and kill again, or just kill.

So it came as a surprise to the DEO agents when they saw Batgirl standing in the middle of the hall, cape draped over her shoulder, waiting for them.

Pride first stiffened, and then sighed in relief. He had a hunch she was the genuine article, and while **The Bats** were often creepy as hell, they were also trained professionals who complimented law enforcement with their skill and precision.

“Batgirl, we’re looking for the Masters of Disaster. I assume you are too?”

“Already dealt with,” Batgirl stated. She pointed down the hall, “Heatstroke and Coldsnap are restrained. Get them.”

Pride nodded to four of his people, each armed with restraints designed with meta-humans in mind, “What about New Wave and Windfall?”

“New Wave…isn’t here.”

“And Windfall?”

“Windfall is under my protection,” Batgirl said without hesitation. At first she considered leading them around ‘by the nose’ as Nightwing would say, but knew that her skills at deception were lacking. Above all else, she needed to maintain control of what was to happen next, and she accomplished that best in combat.

“Excuse me?”

“You have been misinformed,” Batgirl stated, “Windfall killed no one. Your…superior…has his own…plans. I will not let you take her…into custody.”

Pride gave Batgirl an odd look, “Even if I believed you Batgirl, I’m afraid that’s not your decision to make. This is a matter of law…”

“Wrong,” Batgirl replied sternly, “It’s about…right and wrong. That’s all… I care about.”

Pride motioned towards his fellow agents, and a dozen weapons were trained on Batgirl.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, but I suggest you start caring more. I don’t want to, but if you stand between us and a criminal, there’s not a person here who will hesitate to take you down.”

“I will not hesitate…to do what’s right,” said Batgirl.

“Don’t even think of moving your hands to that belt. If you even twitch your arms…”

Batgirl saw perfectly well how each and every agent had their eyes focused on her arms, ready to unleash a deadly hail of gunfire should they even twitch. As it so happened, she fully anticipated that.

She also expected that like most untrained fighters, the DEO agents would focus all their attention on her upper body. They wouldn’t observe how the floor beneath their feet was relatively smooth hardwood, or notice the silver metal disc that already rested flat on the floor beneath her boot.

So without a twitch of her arms, Batgirl slid the disc forward. The DEO agents looked down in confusion, but quickly realized the danger when the disc began to spew a thick white mist.

“Short burst!” Prided ordered. Unlike most law enforcement agents, DEO agents were allowed some discretion when it came to opening fire. Due to the usually unusual nature of the threats they were expected to face, DEO agents were actually trained on how to hold their weapons on target, and when it was acceptable to open fire without a direct line of sight.

Three quick shots were fired by five DEO agents before the barrage ended.

“Hold your fire, cease fire!” Agent Pride ordered.

Like they were trained, the DEO agents eased their fingers off the trigger, and waited. The disc had created a thick wall of white smoke, but as luckily it remained a good two feet away from the DEO agents.

“Can you see anything?” asked one agent.

“No, but that was probably the idea,” Agent Pride remarked, “blind us so that we didn’t risk shooting. I hope that Bat’s vest saved her life, but…”

DEO Agent Pride wasn’t given a chance to finish before Batgirl stepped out of the cloud of smoke, next to the edge of the wall and lunged forward.

The Federal Agent barely realized he was under attack before Batgirl’s fist rendered him unconscious. Batgirl dove into the crowd of Federal Agents, and in the split second it took them to either toss aside their weapons or flip the safeties, Batgirl was knee deep inside their ranks.

Agent Reynolds was the first to attack. He flipped the safety on his service weapon, flipped it in his hands and swung for Batgirl’s head with the butt. With a simple step back, she avoided the attack. Batgirl then swung her left arm and jammed three fingers into the nerve bundle right below Reynold’s armpit. For a moment, his arm went slack as the pain registered, and Batgirl grabbed the arm that held his weapon and slammed it into his face.

To their credit, when the DEO agents saw their six foot six fellow agent fall, none of them hesitated. But with their considerable numbers, they all tripped over one another to get to her.

Batgirl wasted no time in exploiting that fact. A sweeping kick connected with three separate agents, and a single punch to the stomach combined with a single push backwards entangled four agents.

Batgirl threw her cape out wide like a bullfighter, and motioned with her hand for the DEO agents to attack, if they so dared.

They obliged.

&&&

Wendy, uncertain of what else to do, pressed the call button the radio, “…hello?”

“Hello Wendy, this is Oracle. You may have heard of me.”

“Once or twice, look listen, Batgirl needs help!”

_The Daughter of Shiva swung her elbow into Agent Lambert’s face and then grabbed the disorientated agent and swung him into his partner. With a swift kick to the rear, both agents were sent sprawling._

 “Trust me, she’s fine. Right now, you’re a greater threat to her than those agents.”

“Me?” Wendy gasped, “what did I do?”

“The nanites they hit you with, they also act as tracers,” Oracle explained, “they only have a four hour lifespan, but that’s still too long if we want to safely move you.”

“What…what can I do?”

“I assume that Batgirl gave you the tracker and some tools?”

“Yeah but…”

“Then I’m going to talk you through modifying the tracker so it acts as a jammer,” Oracle explained. She had the blue prints displayed on her left screen. She’d only seen this model twice before, but just that passing knowledge was enough for someone of her caliber.

Wendy gulped, “But I’ve never…and it’ll take too long!”

“It’ll be fine,” Oracle reassured her, “Batgirl is more than capable of buying us the time we need.”

_DEO Agent Mike Waller was one of the few agents who was smart enough to carry a non-standard weapon for non standard situations. Knowing that a crime-fighter that was part of an operation as sophisticated as the Batman’s was likely wearing kelvar, he opted for a cruder method of bring her down. He pulled out his Dad’s old hunting knife, and waited for Batgirl to dispatch Agent Mathews before he lunged for her exposed back. Batgirl turned parallel to Mike’s arm at the last second, grabbed him by the wrist and using her back as a pivot, swung him around and then released. Waller, struggling to stay on his feet, bowled into four other agents._

“I’m not even worth this,” Wendy wiped the tears from her face as she began to unscrew the casing, “I screwed up so bad…just like when I followed my sister. Why do you even care, I’m a supervillain!”

“You turned your back on that life. You became a hero, remember?” Oracle replied calmly, “focus, Windfall. I know you’re in a bad spot, but it’s not hopeless. Just listen to me, and I promise you’ll get through this.”

_DEO Agent Chapman was built like a brick wall, and he knew it. Six foot six and with a hundred pounds on Batgirl, he thought he had the edge._

_He was wrong_

_Batgirl dodged his punches effortless while his fellow DEO Agents tried to herd Batgirl away from the exits. Agent Chapman, a former boxer, thought that if he pinned Batgirl between the hall wall and himself, he could take her down. When Batgirl bumped into the wall, Chapman let fly a powerful haymaker, not about to underestimate a Bat._

_Batgirl saw the fist coming and just before it would have crashed into her skull, she grabbed the Agent’s wrist while his fist was still travelling, and redirected it slightly so that it hit a stud in the wall. Agent Chapman screamed as the bones in his fist snapped, and missed Batgirl when she slipped between his legs. Batgirl then kicked the back of his knees out from under him and after he felt, all it took was one well placed kick to the back of his head, bouncing his brain in his skull and smashing his face into the wall._

_The remaining DEO agents stood in awe as the agent they feared and respected physically, was beaten by a girl half his size without even breaking stride._

&&&

Wendy carefully popped open the plastic case of the tracer open. Looking at all the knobs, microchips and wires, Wendy began to feel herself drowning in anxiety.

“I can’t…”

“I’m right here,” Oracle replied. The steel in her voice calmed Wendy’s racing heart, but not by much.

“Even…even if I get out of this…they won’t be punished,” Wendy rubbed her sore, stinging eyes, “they had pictures, and…”

“And I’ve already got someone working on that,” Oracle replied, “now, I need you to focus. First, we need to cut the power while we work. You need to find a blue cord…”

&&&

Rex Mason, known better as the elemental man Metamorpho, ran through the formulas for mustard gas and arsenic as he floated through the college dorm, where according to Oracle, Windfall was gang raped weeks ago.  

He was currently in the form of harmless knock out gas, silently spreading through the dorm to ensure that no one interrupted what he was planning to do next. Once he’d traveled the three floors, it took more effort than Rex would have originally thought to return to human form instead of a deadly airborne gas.

He went to one of the computers that was left on, typed in a memorized web address, and waited.

“Good job, Rex.”

Metamorpho nearly jumped out of his chair before he recognized the voice.

“Damn Oracle, give a guy some warning! I don’t take it as a given that these things have speakers!”

“Or a web cam with audio,” Oracle smirked from two states away, “I own their computers now. I need a second to see what I’ve got…”

Oracle opened the video files first, and though she was expecting it, what she saw twisted her stomach.

Wendy was standing in the center of over a half dozen boys, her eyes glazed over and barely standing. One boy had his arm under hers to keep her from falling, while the others herded her into the living room. Wendy was trying to feebly to resist, but from appearances it took most of her strength to hold her head up, let alone get away.

Oracle turned the video off, she didn’t need to see anymore. The satisfaction that their blackmail material would be used to hang the boys who raped Windfall was a cold comfort indeed.

But the Mistress of Computers was a professional, so while she was biting back the bile in her throat, she infected the computer with a passive virus that prevented them from deleting or transferring any video files and examined the video’s code to see if the disgusting tape had been duplicated.

“Alright Rex,” Oracle reported, “we’re good. Make sure no one sees you leave, last thing we want is to have to deal with accusations of planting evidence.”

“Guess that means I can’t break their jaws before I leave,” Rex said with all seriousness.

“There’s nothing you can do that will compare to thirty years behind bars,” Oracle said, “Wendy needs them in jail more than you need to fulfill a revenge by proxy fantasy. Leave, and don’t be seen. That’s an order.”

&&&

“Agent Chapman, report!” Agent Kastle began to sweat. His agents hadn’t reported in yet, and that never bode well, “Agent Andrew, anyone, come in!”

“It appears your agents ran into a spot of trouble, hoss.”

DEO Agent Kastle ground his teeth. He hated metahuman criminals and people who stated the obvious. Just his luck that he get both in one package.

“I hadn’t noticed,” Kastle growled, “it doesn’t matter. We’re going to get to the top floor and head downwards, box them in. We’re going to start at the roof and work our way down, while the tracker’s still working. I’ve got enough agents covering the floor level, but I don’t want to chance those nanites not working. Lets move it people!”

Four metahuman convicts glared at Agent Kastle’s back with undisguised loathing, and all but one wished they had a knife to put in there. But with the precautions implanted in their bodies, rebellion was a pipe dream. Instead, they separately came to the same decision to vent their frustration on the first available target.

_Batgirl slammed a fist into Agent Simons’ kidney, and then swung her elbow into his face when he bent forward in pain. Agent McCoy came at Batgirl from the back, but Batgirl ducked under the punch and slammed her palm into the center of his ribs, expelling the air from his lungs. McCoy, no model of physical fitness, fell to his hands and knees struggling for air._

Batgirl’s body was still tensed for action when she realized that all the DEO agents were unconscious on the crowd. Some three dozen men and women were scattered up and down the hall, clutching torn muscles or broken bones.

Without even realizing it, Batgirl leaned back against the wall and took several controlled breaths, and came to realize how hard her heart was pounding.

 _Still out of shape_ , Batgirl thought to herself with a flash of anger. On some level, she knew that recovering from a coma wouldn’t be easy, but she didn’t want to be reminded of that fact while still in the field.

She looked over the fallen DEO agents carefully, seeing if any might be playing possum. Several were, but Batgirl could tell they weren’t about to challenge her. They just wanted to nurse their injuries and their egos, and so Batgirl let them be.

“Windfall,” Batgirl tapped on the door, “we can leave now.”

Wendy opened the door slowly, “I worked with Oracle, created a jammer. That means we can get out of here, right?”

“Right. We need to…head to the roof.”

Batgirl led the way, with Wendy close behind. As luck would have it, they were only four stories down from the roof.

They went up two stories before Batgirl felt something wrong. She looked up, and saw DEO Agent Kastle, side by side with metahuman criminals Count Vertigo, Crowbar, Deadline and Hellgrammite.

Batgirl felt a rush of fear spread through every inch of her body, but it was quickly replaced with a sea of calm.

“I should have known a Bat would be involved,” Kastle didn’t sound surprised. In fact, he almost sounded pleased.

“Count Vertigo…”

Batgirl snapped her right arm out. A three inch, collapsible plastic batarang slid into her hand.

“…hit them…”

She flipped it to full size, and took a split second to aim before letting it rip.

“…you idiot!”     

The batarang hit Vertigo right between the eyes. Deadline reached over the side to fire several warning shots, to herd them away from the door, but Batgirl grabbed Wendy and dove through the stairway door.

“The Suicide Squad?!” Wendy knew what government agents plus super-villains equaled, “why would they send the Suicide Squad after me? Oh God, oh god…”

Batgirl ignored Windfall as she pulled the young heroine down the hall. Suddenly, the row of apartments stopped to reveal several apartments were completely missing, plaster walls torn down and doors completely removed, and in their place were fold out tables covered in weights, shaving blades and other assorted items and, of course, suspicious powders and chemicals.

From the looks of things, the place had been abandoned in a hurry. Batgirl saw a Sprite bottle that still had moisture around it.

“Gotham,” was all Batgirl could think to say.

“Just leave…”

“You need to hide,” Batgirl said, “can’t fight with you nearby. Too dangerous.”

“I can’t just…” Batgirl grabbed Wendy by the shoulder, and gave her a deadpan look.

“Not leaving. Get used to it. Now go!”

Wendy went.

Batgirl took a moment to steady herself before she dove into the shadows. Agent Kastle’s Suicide Squad smashed through the door a moment later.

“Great, it’s a damn snipe hunt,” Deadline scowled.

“We’ll smoke them out,” Agent Kastle said smoothly, “Crowbar, Hellgrammite, split up and start looking. Deadline and me will backup whoever finds her.”

“I’m –tik- sure,” Hellgrammite muttered as he and Crowbar stalked off.

&&&

Malcom Tandy, AKA Crowbar, gripped his namesake weapon nervously. Like everyone else in the villain business, he’d heard rumors about every member of the Bat family. Batman was terror incarnate, Nightwing was polite and smug all at once, Robin was a know it all and Batgirl…Batgirl was a damned untouchable hurricane. The last thing Crowbar wanted was yet another beat down, another vicious reminder of why he never should have started in this business in the first place.

Crowbar knew he wasn’t a brave man, and knew he barely counted in the grand scheme of things. He just wished every encounter didn’t end with some violent demonstration of his inferiority!

He pushed open an apartment door, and cringed at all the dust in the air. He channeled a small amount of energy into his weapon to illuminate the room, and sighed. The apartment was full of old boxes, ratty furniture and plenty of shadows for Batgirl to leap out of and beat him down.

“I feel like a chick in a horrurk!” Crowbar, no man of combat, let his signature weapon slip from his hands when he felt Batgirl’s wrists around his throat. The young crimefighter dragged him backwards, just out of reach as she applied precise pressure to his throat. Crowbar passed out in seconds, actually relieved that his defeat wasn’t as humiliating as he expected.

When she was confident he was unconscious, Batgirl carefully set him inside the apartment and silently closed the door.

“You’re –tik- good.”

Batgirl snapped her head to the side, in the direction of the voice, but saw nothing. Tired and aching, it took her a moment to realize the voice wasn’t coming from down the hall, but from the ceiling.

Hellgrammite looked like every disgusting aspect of an insect cobbled together in a human. His body was covered in a thick, green exoskeleton, his eyes were giant red beady things with compound eyes while his mouth was a giant gaping thing with slobbering pincers on both sides.

He was also remarkably fast, Batgirl as found out when the villain dropped from the ceiling, landed and then tackled her before the Daughter of Cain could even adopted a defensive stance.

“But I’m –tik- better.”

The two of them flew down the hall, and Batgirl only barely managed to twist her enemy so that he slammed into the hallway first. His hard body smashed through the moldy plaster and rotten wood and carried them both into the room beyond.

&&&

Deadline ran his thumb over his gun, still in its hip holster.

“Sounds like a tussle, think we should help?” Deadline asked.

“No, they’re just fodder,” Agent Kastle replied, “I’d rather let those two soften up Batgirl and Windfall before I sic you on them. The tracker’s not working right, but I’ve got snipers placed all around and local law enforcement should be backing us up soon. I don’t want to risk them slipping past, so we stay here as long as possible

Deadline nodded as if he agreed, but could think of was a dozen different ways Kastle’s plan could go wrong. Deadline didn’t love being in jail, but he was beginning to think agreeing to join Kastle’s Suicide Squad wasn’t much of a step up. Sure, the mission sounded easy enough, but it was apparent to Deadline that Kastle was throwing around authority he hadn’t earned. People like that often made stupid mistakes, and it was always the people at the bottom who paid for it first.

Still, he was grateful he didn’t have to back up Hellgrammite. That bug bastard gave him the creeps…

&&&

Batgirl and Hellgrammite hit the ground together, but the insectoid sunk his talons into the ground to stop his momentum while Batgirl just kept going. She skidded across the ground a few feet before coming to a painful stop.

Batgirl felt her consciousness swim, and when she ordered her body to get up, nothing happened. It wasn’t just that her body was wracked with pain, she was also exhausted. The Masters of Disaster, the dozens of DEO agents and now the Suicide Squad, her body demanded a second of reprieve and wasn’t about to give her a choice.

Which was unfortunate, as Hellgrammite was in perfect form and already on his feet less than a few yards away.

“So you are the –tik- new Batgirl?” Hellgrammite casually strode over to Batgirl, and picked her up by the neck, “not impressed.”

Hellgrammite reached out with his free hand and tore Batgirl’s utility belt free, ignoring the subsequent electrical charge, and tossed it out the window. If Hellgrammite was surprised when the belt self destructed after following a single story, his face didn’t show it.

“I never much cared –tik- for toys,” Hellgrammite looked Batgirl up and down, “not much meat on you, but –tik- I’m too hungry to care at the moment.”

“Got it.”

Hellgrammite gave Batgirl a curious look, “Got what?”

“Second wind.”

Batgirl swung a handful of dirt into Hellgrammite’s oversized and exposed eyes. Immediately, the insect villain squealed in pain and released his hold on Batgirl in a desperate attempt to wipe his eyes of the agonizing plaster now shattered across them.

Batgirl sprang into motion the moment her feet touched the ground. She already knew that punching Hellgrammite would be useless. The villain had a thick, hard shell that functioned as custom body armor that she’d be lucky to make a dent on in peak form.

But Hellgrammite still had weaknesses. In the end, he was an insect with a human form, and that meant bones, muscles and most importantly, _joints_.

Batgirl grabbed the villain’s arm with her left hand, and brought her right elbow down on the joint, dislocating the arm. Hellgrammite screamed in pain and tried to take a step back, but Batgirl chopped him in the throat.

In a panic, he swung his good arm with his talons aimed at her throat, but Destruction’s Daughter dodged under the swing and snap kicked him in his right knee before elbowing him in the chest, the blow forcing the air from his lungs.

Hellgrammite, now struggling to breath, was too slow to react when Batgirl began stomping on his knee again, this time not stopping until she heard bone snap.

Hellgrammite’s scream of agony was unlike anything Batgirl had heard before, but she didn’t feel an ounce of pity. As the villain began to fall, Batgirl slammed her elbow down on top of his head with such strength that he kicked up a small cloud of dust when he hit the ground.

Batgirl felt her head swim for a moment, and feared she might join Hellgrammite in unconsciousness. But she pushed through the fog, through the constantly pleading of her body to stop.

But she knew that wasn’t possible. Until Windfall was safe, Batgirl knew she couldn’t stop, no matter what.

&&&

Wendy Jones pushed herself further into the dark corner she’d found, trying to ignore the thick silence that hung in the air. She had no idea if Batgirl had succeeded, fled or even been killed.

All she knew was that Batgirl was all that stood between her and dozens upon dozens who wanted to either make her an outlaw again, or throw her in jail for a crime she didn’t even commit.

Words could barely describe the awe that Wendy felt at Batgirl’s dedication, her unflinching, steadfast loyalty. And how was she justifying that?

By hiding in some corner like some scared, pathetic pet. Wendy clenched her fists, remembering that at one time she used to be a hero.  

&&&

“Sounds like things ain’t go that well for the bug,” Deadline remarked, “down to you and me now, hoss.”

“We need to stay here,” Kastle insisted, “if they try to double back…”

“We stay here, they just gonna go around us,” Deadline replied, “decision time, Kastle. Do we go after the Bat and the girl, or stand here with our thumb up our ass? Don’t matter to me one way or the other, I just don’t want you complaining when they sign my release papers.”

DEO Agent Kastle muttered something impolite under his breath, and then thumbed back the hammer on his service weapon.

“Fine, lets find those two bitches.”

Deadline wasn’t the least bit surprised when Kastle took the lead, and began to botch the search almost immediately. He held his weapon at hip level, finger on the trigger. Deadline felt safe in assuming Kastle had some kind of connection to let him get this far, instead of sitting behind a desk where he belonged.

“I think I have something,” Deadline whispered. He motioned for Kastle to follow him into the area that’d been cleared for the drug lab.

“What’d you find?”

“How to shoot a bat,” Deadline replied.

“How’s that?”

Deadline swung around and aimed his wrist laser at Kastle. With no hesitation, he pressed the trigger. Kastle barely had time to react, but by the time betrayal flashed through his brain, Batgirl had leapt from the shadows and tackled him out of the way. The superheated laser still nicked her shoulder, and Batgirl’s mind went white with pain as she crashed to the floor a few feet away from Kastle.

“Like that,” Deadline smirked, “you go find the blond, I’ll deal with the Bat.”

“Just don’t kill her,” Kastle warned, “just make sure she can’t follow us. The last thing I need is Batman banging down my door before I’m good and ready.”

Batgirl watched in both anger and fear as Agent Kastle stalked off, while Deadline sauntered towards her. Her shoulder was throbbing in pain, and a quick mental assessment of her remaining weapons (two batarangs hidden in her boots, her grappling gun still attached to her back with only one shot left, her suit’s taser charge, possibly damaged by Hellgrammite and two plastic, collapsible batarangs hidden in each wrist but not tough enough to hurt Deadline, who enjoyed and one marble sized flash pellet) was not in any way reassuring.

But Batgirl saw the smirking confidence that was almost radiating off of Deadline, and hatched a desperate plan.    

“Don’t come any closer,” Batgirl pushed herself over so that she was laying on her back, and her limp legs were pointed towards Deadline, “or I’ll…make you a woman.”

Batgirl had heard the line from Huntress, and while she didn’t quite get the threat, the person who received it had no such troubles, nor did Deadline. The Texas born mercenary just smirked and with a toothy grin, knocked on his crotch and produced a metallic sound.

“This thing here is bullet proof. You don’t scare me none. Now, I’m just gonna start cutting until you stop screaming. If you tell me anything interesting, well…”

Batgirl didn’t listen. She snapped the flare pellet in her hand and flung it at Deadline’s face where it exploded in a blinding ball of light. With his eyes radiating pain, the Professional Killer couldn’t muster the concentration to phase, and Batgirl kicked his knees outward, right above his pads. His legs spread, Batgirl then brought one foot up in between his crotch.

Deadline was correct when he said his cup could stop a bullet from hitting his genitals. However, it did absolutely nothing to protect the sensitive nerve bundles right behind them. A nerve bundle that Batgirl had just struck with custom fit steel toed boots.

Deadline fell to his side, his mind now gripped in searing, pulsating agony.

Batgirl rose slowly, her body protesting the entire time. She looked at Deadline with a measure of concern and sympathy.

As luck would have it, he was on his side, so he wouldn’t choke if he vomited. Batgirl hated to use that move, as it could have been fatal on anyone who wasn’t a meta-human. As much as she told herself she didn’t have a choice, it was still a gamble with someone’s life.

“Kastle,” Batgirl said simply, each syllable laced with hatred.

&&&

“Damn it, work!”

DEO Agent Kastle shook the small tracer that was supposed to be attuned to the nanites inside of Windfall. He’d hoped that it would start working if he was closer to his quarry, but the screen kept coming back as ‘Subject Not Found’, and refused to change no matter how many times he pressed the search button again. He was beginning to sweat, the idea of failure becoming realer with each passing moment.

He was so focused on the devise and his possible fiasco, that he didn’t notice any sounds around him until a broken two by four smacked him in the back of the head. Kastle was a big man, and to his credit, he only fell to his knees, tracer in one hand and gun in the other.

“Don’t you dare move!” Windfall warned, two by four gripped in her hand.

“Okay, okay,” Agent Kastle froze, both tracker and gun still in hand, “what do you want?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing!” Windfall hissed, “the Suicide Squad?! For me? What the hell makes me so important?”

“You were an Outsider,” Kastle shrugged.

“What does that matter?”

“You were part of Batman’s team once,” Kastle explained, “and he’s completely vanished off the grid. I figure if I can get an associate, someone he won’t go after too quickly, then I can smoke his ass out when I toss them down a deep hole. Former villainess like you, well…”

“I’m just…bait?”

“Cheese for the mouse trap,” Kastle replied honestly, “when someone like the Batman disappears, people get worried. I find out where he is…”

“Then they owe you a favor,” Wendy growled, “you’re just like…them.”

“Them?”

“Those boys…” Wendy felt her throat clench, “…you thought I killed. I wasn’t a person to them, just something they wanted.”

Wendy fought back the tears, and tried to tell herself that she knew what to do with this agent, what had to be done. What she deserved, after all this hounding and manipulation…

But Wendy simply had no stomach for that, let alone strength. DEO Agent Kastle seemed to sense that, and sprang to his feet. He swung around and pitched the tracer at Windfall. It missed, but Wendy dropped her makeshift weapon when she brought her hands up to defend herself.

“But unlike those boys, I get to keep what I take,” smirked Agent Kastle, his service weapon aimed at Windfall’s head.

“Wrong.”

Batgirl stepped out of the shadows as if she were crossing the street, and slapped her hands over Kastle’s weapon. She flipped the safety, ejected the magazine and then turned it around in his hand before Kastle realized what had happened.

Batgirl flicked the safety off, “You’re beaten. Swear to leave…and I won’t shoot.”

“And you look like you’re about to drop,” Kastle smirked, “besides, we both know Batman’s rule about guns, and killing.”

“Not Batman,” Batgirl pulled the trigger.

DEO Agent Kastle had been away firing range for such a long time that he forgot how loud and bright a gunshot could be at close range. He saw his life flash before his eyes, his eyes explode with pain and his heart stop as the bullet harmlessly flew just two inches past his skull.

Batgirl tore his gun from his hand and slammed the butt into the side of his skull three times. Kastle fell to the ground senseless.

Batgirl looked at the man in disgust. She couldn’t believe that the last several hours were all about some government agent with his stupid scheme to flush out her mentor. She ideally wondered how the DEO agent would react to the knowledge that Batman had seized control of Checkmate.

While that information likely would have meant a lot to his superiors, not that Kastle had any way of knowing. For all he knew, Batman was dead, retired or anything else. He was using Windfall as in a wild gambit, willing to ruin her life just to earn favor with those above him. Batgirl knew he was scum the second she saw him but was still shocked at how right she had been.     

 “We need to go,” Batgirl turned to the stunned Wendy.

“Okay, but…”

“No buts, follow me.”

Windfall nodded, but inwardly was deeply worried. Batgirl looked dead on her feet, and she still couldn’t use her powers. So how did the Gotham Crimefighter expect them to get away.

Wendy’s question was answered when the two young women stepped through the door, and standing there waiting for them was the one crime-fighter known to virtually superhero as one of the most reliable and trustworthy figures in the superhuman community, second only to Superman.

“Nightwing,” Batgirl said simply, “snipers?”

“Sleeping,” Nightwing replied without missing a beat. He then produced a syringe from his utility belt, “hello again, Windfall. It’s good to see you again, though I wish the circumstances were better. This will clear the nanites from your system, so if you’ll just give me your arm, I can give you back your powers.”

“Am I supposed to fly us out of here?” Wendy struck her arm out, and Nightwing swabbed an area with alcohol, and as gently as possible sank the syringe into her arm. Wendy felt a buzz underneath her skin, and could once again feel her connection to the air around her.

“Actually,” Nightwing tapped a button on his wrist, “I thought we’d ride in something easier and stylish, if you don’t mind.”

Windfall sensed a massive displacement of air, and looked up to see one of Batman’s trademark airplanes descend from the clouds above. Nightwing helped Windfall into the plane, and within minutes, the trio were soaring away

Windfall laid her head back against the headrest, and sighed in relief. What seemed like the worst two weeks of her life were finally over.

&&&

_Epilogue_

Tatsu sat in the County Prosecutor’s office, one leg resting over the other as the man fumed from behind his desk.

“I don’t know who you think you are, to come in here and tell me how to handle cases before this office!” Patrick Fitz pointed an accusing finger at Katana, “just because you wear spandex you people think you can just boss us around, well, you have another thing coming!”

Fitz reached for his office phone, but Tatsu sprang out of her chair, unsheathed her sword and brought it down between his ring and middle finger.

“Let me tell you something about ‘us people’,” Katana snarled, “we battle gods for the sake of people we have never met, we fight monsters to save passers-by on the street and defy the forces of nature and gods for faceless masses. Now you ask yourself, what would we do for someone we know and care about? Ask yourself what we would do to someone who stands in the way of justice for that person?”

Fitz gulped despite himself, and Katana yanked her sword free from the desk. Fitz was trying to think of something clever to say, to show defiance when suddenly he heard his cell phone ring.

“That would be Jefferson Pierce,” Katana gave an easy, false smile, “I would suggest you answer quickly.”

 Fitz answered his phone, and Katana enjoyed watching the man squirm. To her, Jefferson Pierce was an old friend and teammate, Black Lightning, founding member of the Outsiders. But recently his civilian identity had eclipsed his costumed one when he ran for and won the presidential election.

“Hell..lo sir. Yes, sir, she’s here. No here. I agree sir. But sir…! No, no I understand sir. Thank you, sir.”

Fitz snapped his phone shut, and looked towards Katana crestfallen. Katana eye’s betrayed no sympathy as they locked with his.

“You have video evidence, a rape kit and will have testimony of the victim herself,” Katana said evenly, “we expect convictions and Kami help you if that video leaks. The President is where our pressure begins. Rest assured, you do not want to see where it ends.”

&&&

DEO Agent Kastle woke up in a hospital bed to a terrifying sight. At the foot of his bed was a skeleton in a nice suit, and a plus sized African American woman known and feared throughout the corridors of power.

“I can explain!” Kastle said instinctively.

“I should hope so,” Amanda Waller began, “because from appearances, you wrangled yourself a Suicide Squad to hound a victim of a sexual assault, to use as bait for The Bat.” Waller gave Kastle a look that could melt glaciers, “Well?”

“I thought you wanted to draw him out!” Kastle pleaded pathetically.

“Oh, he and I are going to have a long talk,” Amanda Waller replied, “but I don’t need the help of an idiot thug like you! And using an innocent victim? Have you no shame?!”

DEO Director Bones stifled a dark chuckle at the irony of Waller’s question. He struck a match off of the room’s no smoking sign, and blew a ring of smoke into the air before he began.

“I’m curious, do you have any idea the damage you’ve done to my agency?” asked Bones, “I have over two dozen agents in the hospital now. That’s going to create a backlog I can’t even begin to imagine, and that’s to say nothing of how you’ve damaged our reputation within the superhero community.”

“Sir, I never meant…”

“Intent is irrelevant,” Bones said dismissively, “we need those costumed jokers to work with us, to trust us. And now not only do I have to let Batgirl walk away from disabling dozens of agents for weeks, I’ll have to kiss the ass of every cape I see for the next six months if I ever want to put this incident behind the DEO. I don’t like to kiss ass, Kastle, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”

“I’m sorry sir, I didn’t mean…”

“What did I say about intent?” Bones snarled.

Kastle wisely kept his mouth shut.

“Heal up quick, boy,” Waller said evenly, “because when you’re on your feet, Bones and I are going to see how far we can ride your ass until it breaks. You even think of quitting, I’ll name drop you to Kobra as a possible source for intel. You’re life has just become a prison, and you’re my bitch now!”

&&&

_Later_

When Wendy Jones, she felt better than she had in weeks. She was wearing fresh clothes, spent the night in an actual bed and a thousand other amenities of normal life that she knew she’d never take for granted again.

Tatsu explained that they were in one of Batman’s many safe-houses, but even with the light coat of dust the house felt like the closest thing Wendy had to home in years. She’d never quiet felt comfortable in the dorms, even before…what happened.

Wendy saw a set of clothes set out for her at the end of the bed with a note indicating that Tatsu was downstairs with breakfast.

When Wendy stepped into the shower, she felt a wave of relief just wash over her. Ever since that day at the Frat house, Wendy hadn’t felt safe anywhere. The young heroine felt as if she was suddenly able to breathe, as if she was suffocating for weeks and only now realized it.

Wendy slid to her knees as almost scalding hot water washed over, and she just wept. Wept for the suffering that been heaped upon her by both the Fraternity boys and her own flesh and blood, wept at how foolish she’d been not to come to her old teammates and wept that despite it all, they still stood by her through hell and high water.

_Sometime later_

Wendy dressed in some spare clothes that Tatsu had left her, and came down the stairs towards where she’d smelled someone cooking breakfast. She saw Tatsu at a stove, and another Asian girl sitting at the table, helping herself to an amazing amount of eggs.

“Good morning, Wendy,” Tatsu took a pan off the eye and turned to look at the young heroine, “how are you feeling?”

“…better,” Wendy replied. She pulled up a chair and sat down, “Look Tatsu, about what happened, I’m sorry I didn’t…I mean…”

“Don’t concern yourself with it,” Tatsu brought Wendy a plate, “we can’t change the past, what’s done is done.”

“What are we going to do now?” Wendy asked.

“To prevent this from becoming a media circus, we thought it best if you took some time to recover in Europe,” Tatsu said, “Brion is going to send a cab which will take you to a private plane at the airport. The boys who attacked you have already been indicted, and while you’ll need to testify eventually, they don’t need your statement at the moment though they’ll need it eventually.”

“I understand,” Wendy sighed, uncertain of exactly how to feel. She was glad the boys who attacked her were going to go to jail, but she certainly didn’t look forward to testifying and hated the fact that she was relying on others to clean up her mess.  

Rather than dwell on that, Wendy looked across the table to Cassandra and winced internally when she saw all the black and blue, accompanied by bandages and who knew what else. Wendy knew she should feel guilty for being the source of those injuries, even in a roundabout way, but she still had trouble dealing with the idea anyone would be willing to suffer those injuries for her in the first place. But Wendy still wanted to say something…

“You’re welcome,” Cassandra said suddenly, startling the heroine. She could see how Wendy was searching for the words, and thought to save her the trouble. But when Wendy reacted with confusion and internal recriminations, Cass’ eyes darted to her meal.

Cassandra always had difficulty dealing with gratitude. Saving lives was as natural as breathing to her, she didn’t need any special thanks, although it did feel…nice.

So both young women stared at their meals as they ate, each unsure of how to address the other.

The tedium was finally interrupted by a knock at the door. A tall, beautiful red headed woman let herself in. Cassandra recognized her instantly as Emily Lia Briggs, AKA Looker, a teammate of Tatsu from the Outsiders.

And not someone Tatsu was fond of, Cassandra could see.

“Lia!” Wendy exclaimed.

“Emily,” Tatsu said curtly, “I trust things are all in order?”

“Of course, Tatsu dear,” Looker smiled, “we’ll be leaving tonight on one of Brion’s private planes. First class doesn’t begin to compare, Wendy.”

“Tonight?” Tatsu asked

“Well, poor Wendy can’t go to Europe with just the clothes on her back,” Looker replied. Wendy opened her mouth to object, but before she could say anything Looker turned to her and said, “I’m paying Wendy, as a belated birthday gift. Trust me, money is not an issue.”

“I…okay,” Wendy looked down at her plate and saw that it was virtually picked clean, “I guess we better get going.”

“There’s no rush,” Looker said dismissively. She then looked towards Cassandra, “oh, so you must be Tatsu’s new ward?”

“Yes..?” Cassandra replied. The combination of a rhetorical question and social situation made Cassandra terribly uneasy.

“Well, you lucked out. Trust me when I say that her bark is worse than her bite, but her bite can still be pretty terrible,” Looker winked.

“I…okay,” Cassandra had no idea what say in response, but ‘okay’ seemed to suffice more often than not.

“We ought to go,” Wendy said, “I don’t want to impose anymore than I already have.”

“You haven’t imposed at all, at least let us walk you to the car,” Tatsu said.

When the four reached the car, Wendy knew it was time to say goodbye, but couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She’d come to Gotham to confront Tatsu for Batman hounding her, only to learn that it was her own sister who was responsible for her situation, and to be saved by Batgirl.

Not Windfall’s finest hour, by any measure.

“Tatsu, I’m really sorry for what I did,” Wendy began, “I don’t know what I was thinking, I just…”

“Don’t concern yourself about it,” Tatsu replied honestly, “things worked out for the best, in the end.”

Wendy turned to Cassandra, and tried to think of a way to express the heartfelt gratitude and sheer awe she felt for Batgirl’s defense of her.

“I know,” Cassandra volunteered, “and you’re worth it, and welcome.”

The two young girls shared a hug, and the two Outsiders departed. Cassandra waited until the car was out of sight and then turned to her guardian.

“Why didn’t you say…what you were thinking?”

Tatsu was wide eyed for a moment, and then smiled knowingly. She’d forgotten how intuitive her ward could be.

“Because Wendy has endured enough without lecturing her about something she already feels,” Tatsu explained, “she knows she made a mistake in not contacting us and asking for help. After this mess, I doubt it’s a mistake she will make again.”

“Oh.”

“Just because we’re heroes, doesn’t mean we never need help,” Tatsu continued, “we’re all special in some way, but not perfect. Asking for help when you need it isn’t a weakness, it’s a strength. It’s something many struggle with, even Batman. It’s such a needless waste…”

&&&

_Later_

“Understood Bruce, I’ll do a follow up tomorrow. Oracle signing off,” Barbara Grayson deactivated her radio equipment, activated some automated security protocols and then pushed herself backwards and let out a body wracking yawn. Whereas she once found working as Batgirl was physically exhaustive, Barbara found functioning as Oracle equally exhausting, if only mentally. 19

But even after a long day, Oracle retained more of her wits than most used in their entire lifetime. So her fingers twitched for the throwing stars concealed under her chair when she suddenly felt someone behind her.

“Oracle, do you have some moment?” Cassandra asked, a backpack full of books in one hand, “I…need… help.”

“Time, it’s…” Oracle cut herself off, “never mind. Yes, I always have time for you. Just put the books on the table, let me get some tea, and we’ll get started.”

The End

 Afterword: This arc was not something I had planned when I originally began plotting my Batgirl series, but something about Windfall’s situation, coupled with what had already happened to Batgirl, really got under my skin. All too often, writers define characters in comics by their perceptions outside of it, and it just flat out sucks. When something bad happens to a friend or colleague, who honestly looks to see if they’re an A lister or B list friend? There are better ways to scuffle characters off screen.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the story. Windfall will be back eventually 


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